


a promise that we'll never grow apart

by sempre_balla



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Spoilers, seriously do not read this if you don't know ike and soren's full pasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-08-25 12:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempre_balla/pseuds/sempre_balla
Summary: “Soren!” Ike repeats besides him, which makes him turn around to look at the other boy. Ike is smiling again. “That’s a nice name.”The boy doesn’t think anything of it, it hardly even feels his. He doesn't know who named him, but he doubts it was done with any love—love is not something people feel for him—, so he cares not for it. However, hearing his name coming out of Ike's lips, spoken in excitement rather than disgust, makes something click in him.Soren,he thinks, inwardly replaying the sound of Ike’s youthful voice.That’s me. Soren.—AU in which Ike takes Soren to his home after their first meeting, and they never end up getting separated for years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but maria" I hear you say, "isn't it a bad idea to start this fic when you already have another ikesoren multichapter in the works and you're incredibly busy with university?", to which I reply that yes, it's an awful idea, but here we fucking are!! I don't know where it came from, but I got the biggest urge to write a fic where ike and soren are never separated in their childhood and I couldn't get it out of my head so i've been writing this nonstop during train rides and ta-dah! I actually quite like it (which is unbelievable coming from me)
> 
> I'm definitely still working on [the other ikesoren multichapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319219) (which is the complete opposite concept of this one, funny that) and when I get a particularly concerning exam out of my back this next tuesday I'm assuming I'll have enough time to alternate between the two. if not then pray for me, I am so tired

The boy has forgotten what being cold feels like. He thinks he remembers being cold, back when he lived with the woman; but Gallia is a warm country, and he cannot recall where exactly it was that he used to live before meeting the sage. His heart froze over a long time ago, but his body has had no troubles staying warm even when dressed in nothing but a few rags. He dismisses the usual shivers that rack his body, as he believes they may be the emotional response he always gets when he interacts with others. He wishes he were used to it all, but when one is treated like he has no business being alive, he forgets how to continue living like he has the right to do so.

There comes a point, however, where the boy can't possibly keep ignoring the truth. The reason why his freezing body trembles from the tip to the toe is a simple one: he is dying. He has been dying for quite a while now, but it finally catches up to him when he trips over a tree root while searching for anything edible in the forest and finds that he cannot get up. He barely has the strength to drag himself closer to the hollow by the roots, so he doesn’t even try getting on his feet. _So this is where I fall_ , he thinks as he curls up and makes himself smaller, and the realization sends a new wave of shivers through his body.

The boy has never truly lived, but he is afraid of death nonetheless. That fear makes him try to fight exhaustion and keep his eyes wide open, because he knows that when he closes them they will never open again. He tries, and tries, and tries, but he is tired. Tired of fighting back. Death scares him, but so does what life has in store for him.

He closes his eyes, his last thoughts before his consciousness slips away being of rocks colliding with his body and insults being hurled at him.

 

 

* * *

 

Ike draws his arms behind his head, and with a little grunt that he doesn't have any reason to do other than the fact that his father does it when he trains with his sword, he strikes the air with the stick he found. It makes a muted sound as it cuts through the air, but it doesn't feel satisfying at all, so Ike examines it with a frown. It might be too short, now that he looks at it. His father’s sword is about two thirds of his height or more, but this stick isn't even as long as one of Ike’s arms. He tosses it unceremoniously and resumes his search, walking slowly with his eyes trained on the ground. He's determined to find the perfect stick today, and when he does it he’ll have something good to practice his swordsmanship with. Ike bets he’ll get better in no time, and Father will be so impressed that he’ll finally agree to start training him. That’s why he keeps such close attention to his surroundings, and why, consequently, he immediately notices when something is amiss.

The first thing he sees is a foot so small connected to an ankle so thin, that he doesn't register it for what it is until he looks up enough to see a small bundle of rags, dirt and flesh. Most of the face is covered by the raven hair that obscures it, but Ike can make out hollowed cheeks and closed eyes. What he can't make out, however, is the rise and fall of breath on the small figure’s chest, which makes him gasp in horror and scurry towards the body.

As soon as his knees hit the ground, the person on the ground jerks and opens their eyes. When they lock gazes with Ike, he gasps again. He has never seen a shade of red as vivid as the one he sees now, but he also hasn't seen such an expression of intense horror, not ever. They’re beautiful eyes, but Ike can’t appreciate that when they’re clouded with fear.

“It's okay,” he says, voice laced with relief at seeing the other still lives—even if they look like they are one step away from dying for real. “I'm not gonna hurt you.”

The person’s breath hitches, and they scoot back so they are pressed right against the bark of the tree they'd been sleeping on. Their hair partially falls away from their face as they sit upright. Ike realizes they look like a boy close to his age, and it makes his brow furrow. How did someone as young as him end up like this, wounded and starving and wasting away in a forest? Why weren't his parents protecting him like Ike’s mother and father protected him and Mist?

Does he even have parents, or is he all alone in the world?

“I'm Ike,” Ike says slowly. “Who are you?”

The boy doesn't answer, giving him a wide-eyed stare, his body language screaming caution and fear. Ike waits, and waits, and gets impatient, so he changes his approach. He reaches into the bag that hangs from his shoulder and carefully pulls out his packed lunch. The boy flinches once at his movement, and once again when Ike extends the lunch.

“You're hungry, right?” Ike asks, willing his voice to sound soft and non-threatening like his mother’s does when she tries to soothe Mist. “You can have my lunch.”

The boy looks absolutely starved, so Ike is surprised when he shies away, eyes wide and body shaking wildly. Ike has never seen a corpse, but he believes it mustn't look much different from the boy before him, and it _breaks_ his heart. Ike opens his lunch and takes out a sandwich, leaving the apple he brought for dessert in the envelope. He extends his hand with the sandwich now, and the boy’s nostrils flare before he winces and whimpers as if smelling food is physically painful.

Ike remembers the time when he climbed a tree to peek at the nest of a mother bird right after she had taken off to find food for her babies. Only one of the baby birds seemed to have survived, and it was the tiniest animal Ike had ever seen. As soon as it set its small eyes on him, it had shied away and tried to climb off of the nest, unaware of how that would kill him. Ike had felt awful for frightening the little thing. He had never expected that he'd be feeling the same thing for a human being.

“Please don't be afraid,” he pleads in a whisper. “Look, I’ll leave the food right here.” He lowers the sandwich to the ground, placing it in front of the boy’s feet. He then scoots back, giving him some space. “And I'll stay right here.”

They look at each other for a few moments. Ike doesn't take pride in it, but he isn't afraid to admit that he is not a patient boy. He has to put a considerable effort to stay still and avoid scaring the boy any more than he has already—he even digs his nails into his palms to ground himself—but, thankfully, he manages. When shaky hands reach for the sandwich, scarlet eyes still carefully watching Ike’s every movement, Ike feels a staggering amount of pride blooming in his chest. If that pride is directed at himself or at the other, he doesn't know, but he doesn't care either way.

The boy eats like he has never done it before in his life. He makes quiet noises as he gobbles down the bread, he smears all kinds of things around his mouth, he even chokes for a second for eating too fast. Ike chuckles at that, endeared, but the boy that had previously reacted to every sound and movement Ike made doesn't even seem to notice. Even his eyes are closed while he enjoys the meal, and Ike allows himself to relax, sitting cross-legged on the ground and resting his chin on his hand, pleased to just watch the other boy eat.

The sandwich is gone in a flash, and as soon as the kid looks up at him, Ike cocks his head to the rest of the lunch.

“You can eat the apple too,” he tells him, grinning. His grin widens when the boy takes the apple without hesitation and opens his mouth wide to dig in. “Be careful, you don't want to choke on the seeds.”

As soon as Ike warns him, the boy closes his mouth. He seems sheepish when he brings the apple to his face and starts nibbling on it. Ike is reminded of a mouse and he chuckles again, because this kid is really cute.

Just like the sandwich, the apple is gone in a flash. The boy nibbles on the remains until there's nothing left for him to eat, and then stares at his hands in clear disappointment before he starts licking his fingers.

“I can give you more food, if you want,” Ike says. The boy visibly perks up at that, and Ike looks at his split lip and the dirt clinging to his skin. “You can come to my house, if you want. My mother is a healer that can get you patched up, and you can have a bath too.”

The boy’s eyes widen in fear once more, and he holds his hands over his chest, shaking his head frantically.

“Why not?” Ike asks, hardly expecting an answer. If the boy could speak he would have done so already. “My family is really nice, they wouldn't mind at all.”

The boy shakes his head again, and Ike frowns. He wants to help this boy. Giving him his lunch has made him feel _so_ happy,  and it has filled him with an almost overwhelming desire to see how the other looks like when he is healed and unafraid. He wants to protect him from whatever’s hurting him.

“My mother is a healer,” he repeats. “She always helps people who need it. We have more than enough food.” The boy shakes his head again, and Ike wants to take him by the hand and forcefully drag him to safety. He doesn't. “I won't let anything happen to you, I'll stay by your side all the time. Please come with me, I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

It looks like the boy wants to protest really badly, as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, but he truly seems incapable of speech regardless of how much he wants to produce it. Ike doesn't mind—those scarlet eyes are honest. He understands.

“I could bring you more food, but that wouldn't be enough,” he insists. “You're wounded and dirty, what if something gets infected? What if someone hurts you again? Won't you trust me?”

Something in the boy’s eyes shifts at that last part. Ike can't tell what it is, exactly, but the boy stops shaking his head and trying to make himself smaller. This gives him a surge of confidence, and after a few moments he crawls forward. The boy flinches, but doesn't shy away this time.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Ike whispers, extending his hand. “I promise.”

The boy reaches back, but stops his hand when his fingers graze Ike’s palm. He looks surprised, like he hasn't touched anyone in years and has forgotten how it felt. Slowly and carefully, Ike wraps his fingers around the boy’s thin hand, and smiles when he feels the initially cold skin warming under his touch.

“Let’s go home,” Ike says, and the boy nods his answer.

 

* * *

 

 _This is a trap_ , the boy thinks as he’s led by the hand. _This is a trap,_ he thinks as Ike walks him through a deserted backstreet, even when he knows the other boy is keeping him out of the villagers’ sight for his own safety. _This is a trap,_ he thinks when they stop in front of a wooden door, and Ike opens it without knocking.

“Ike, honey, is that you?” a voice calls from the inside of the house, and Soren immediately turns around and bolts away. Or tries to, at least, because the weakness of his limbs betrays him, and he trips and falls flat on his face. He wants to get up and scurry away, but the small amount of food he has had isn't nearly enough to have him do anything but lay there, defeated.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Ike asks. The boy hears him kneeling besides him. “Come on, there's nothing to be afraid of!"

 _I can't know that,_ he thinks. _It's not that easy, I can’t know that._

“Ike?” the same voice as before says, sounding closer now. The boy jolts and shivers, but a firm hand on his back grounds him, and he exhales shakily as he feels the warmth of Ike’s hand seep through his clothes.

Ike is _so_ warm. The boy had only forgotten how feeling cold was because he had never experienced this kind of warmth before, he is sure of that now. If this warmth is stripped away from him now, he doubts he will ever be able to recover.  

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Ike says as he helps him to his feet. And really, how can he doubt those words when they come from such a warm person?

(He still doubts them a little, but far, far less than he normally would.)

The boy glances towards the open door and sees a tall figure coming into place. He jolts again, and this time hides behind Ike, clinging onto his arm.

“Oh,” the woman says. “Ike, who's that?”

“Please get a staff, Mother,” Ike says, extending his arms to further shield the boy, which makes him relax a little. Ike trusts his family, but since the boy doesn’t, Ike goes out of his way to make him feel safe like that. Ike is warm. Ike is good. “He's wounded.”

The boy expects anything but what leaves the woman’s mouth.

“Of course. Come in, boys.”

He looks up right before the woman takes off to fetch a staff, and his jaw drops because she has Ike’s clear eyes and Ike’s bright hair and Ike’s soft smile and Ike’s calm presence. _Is this what a mother looks like?_ , he wonders, amazed, as he stares at her retreating form.

“See? I told you she's nice,” Ike says, grinning. The boy just gapes at him, letting his hand be taken by Ike’s larger one. “Let's go in.”

They go inside, the boy stepping forward to cling to Ike’s arm again, finding it an oddly reassuring anchor. Ike lets him do just that as he walks him to a small kitchen, where the mother is waiting with a staff in her hands. The boy hides behind Ike’s back again, making himself as small as possible, but he keeps his eyes peeled open and looking at the woman’s every move.

“You can hold onto Ike all you want, sweetheart, but I’m gonna need you to step out a little so I can examine your wounds better.” She gestures to the table in the middle of the room, where a single cup sits. “There’s water in there, if you’re thirsty.”

The boy gulps, only then realizing how dry and patchy his throat feels. He takes a step so he can stand right by Ike’s side, which forces the other boy to walk closer to the table. They briefly look into each other’s eyes, and Ike nods reassuringly, wrapping an arm around his middle so he can reach out for the cup of water and not feel completely unprotected while doing so.

Ike is keeping his word that he’d protect him and wouldn’t leave his side. Ike is good. The boy gulps down his water hurriedly so he can quickly latch onto the other’s arm again, but he doesn’t hide behind him completely, trying his best to stay glued to the spot when the woman kneels before him with the staff in her hands. A sudden memory of the sage looming over him and striking the back of his neck with a staff makes him wince and tense up, and the gentleness of her features does nothing to drive away the thought that _she could hurt me with that, she could hurt me so badly and I wouldn’t be able to run away._ He closes his eyes tightly when she leans closer, and shakes his head frantically when she asks, “Can I touch you?”

“It’ll be fine,” Ike tries to reassure from his side, but his words can’t calm him down anymore. He shakes his head again, and hunches over to try and make himself smaller. He then remembers that the woman that raised him didn’t like when he did that, and had once kicked him so hard in the stomach for doing so that he had coughed blood. He straightens his back again, but keeps his eyes firmly shut.

The boy has never been healed with a staff before, the sage considering it wasteful to use it on the wounds caused by his training, so he inhales sharply when goosebumps raise on his skin in reaction to the magic from the woman kneeling before him. The sensation that floods his body is both cool and warm, and so soothing that it forces his body to relax.

“My name is Elena,” the woman says, her voice soft and gentle. “May I ask yours?”

The boy has never heard anyone sound so patient. His body has never experienced this kindness—because this is what this is, and what Ike’s offering of food was; pure, and unadulterated kindness towards his body and his wellbeing—and so he feels his grip on Ike slacken. Ike, in turn, leans his weight on him, and a sob almost escapes the boy’s lips. Ike is so warm, _so_ warm, and so is his mother, and so is her magic. If this keeps up, he will forget what being cold feels like again.

“I don’t think he can speak, mother,” Ike says. “He hasn’t said a word to me.”

“Hm…” Elena hums. “I wonder if there’s any other way we can communicate. We can’t know where his home is or contact it if he cannot tell us anything.”

The boy’s eyes open at that, and he purses his lips. Elena is right about one thing: he needs to communicate with them, and unlike the other villagers, they seem willing to wait and listen. If that’s the case, then he has a way. He raises a hand, its palm upturned, and then positions the other as if it were holding a quill, feigning scribbling on the open palm.

“Oh!” Elena says, catching on immediately and smiling. She sets the staff on the floor and gets up. “Wait a second,” she says before leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she's left, Ike turns to him. 

“Do you feel better?” he asks.

The boy looks down at his hands, where he can still feel the mild tingle of her magic. He then raises his fingers to his lip, where the cut that had formed there due to a rock thrown at him has disappeared, leaving the skin smooth. He can’t ascertain his internal wounds, his full stomach and full heart making him feel a little numb, but he certainly does feel better. Better than ever, actually. He’s only realized it now that Elena has brought up the issue of communication, but something jittery settles in his chest when he realizes that, for the first time in his life, people are trying to communicate with him, trying to understand him. He nods slowly, looking at Ike and feeling his breath hitch when the other boy breaks into a smile.

“That’s good,” Ike says, and the boy can only nod again. _You’re good_ , is what he thinks, but all he can do is nod.

Elena arrives shortly after, carrying a thin book, a small parchment, and a pen. She hands them all to him, who takes them carefully, avoiding contact with Elena’s skin. He supposes the book is for providing him with a hard surface without making him sit on the table, so he uses it just like that and writes on the parchment before showing it to Elena.

“I’ve no home,” Elena reads aloud so Ike can understand too. She frowns sympathetically, but thankfully brushes the topic aside for now. “What about your name?” She asks.

The boy positions the tip of the pen close to the parchment, but he lets it hover there. The truth is he has long forgotten about his name due to haven’t heard it in many, many years. He recalls there is only a single instance where his name was spoken: the day where the woman handed him to the sage. She had spat out a name she had never used before taking the money and disappearing without doing as much as glancing at him one last time. The sage had never used the name either, so it had eventually slipped into the back of his mind, where he searches for it now. It takes him a while, but neither Ike nor Elena say anything until he finally lets the dull point of the pen meet the parchment. Ike gasps quietly when he starts moving it slowly, writing a name he has never used in his entire life. He shows it to Elena again, who smiles.

“Soren,” she says, and it sounds as unfamiliar as it felt when writing it.

“Soren!” Ike repeats besides him, which makes him turn around to look at the other boy. Ike is smiling again. “That’s a nice name.”

The boy doesn’t think anything of it, it hardly even feels his. He doesn't know who named him, but he doubts it was done with any love—love is not something people feel for him—, so he cares not for it. However, hearing his name coming out of Ike's lips, spoken in excitement rather than disgust, makes something click in him.

 _Soren_ , he thinks, inwardly replaying the sound of Ike’s youthful voice. _That’s me. Soren._

The thought that names are a funny thing goes through Soren’s mind. They have never held any meaning for him. After all, he does not know, or care to remember, the names of the people who raised him. After all, he didn’t even remember he had one until a few minutes ago. Yet as soon as Ike spoke his name—and praised it, at that—, Soren felt like the entire world had shifted just to leave a tiny spot where he can exist. A nameless boy who is only referred to by unkind words is no one and belongs nowhere, but _Soren_ has a place in Ike’s good graces, at least. It may be small, but it’s there, and it makes him feel like, for the very first time, he exists. It makes him feel like he is someone, and names are a funny thing because before he accepted this one as his, he had never felt like anyone, or anything at all.

Names are a funny thing, and an echo of _Ike_ seems to flood Soren’s mind like it belongs there, and like it’ll never leave again.

 _Ike is a nice name too_ , he thinks. _You have a nice name, Ike,_ he wants to say. He wants to turn to Elena and say _You gave him a nice name: Ike,_ and then repeat it over and over and over again. _Ike_ , he mouths, as if his voice will form the sounds. It doesn’t, so he settles for his thoughts, and says _Ike_ with his mind, with his heart.

As if Soren’s thoughts reach him, Ike’s eyes crinkle at the corners in fondness, and he wraps an arm around his shoulders, whispering a single “yeah?” in his ear.

Soren doesn’t have an answer, not really, so his mind says _Ike_ and he leans into the other boy’s side and, for the first time in his life, feels like he is right where he should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the obligatory "updates will be irregular because my life is in shambles" warning and the part where I tell you to listen to [monday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fodRoRdDSug/) by amazarashi because the fic title was taken from its lyrics because I always take titles from amazarashi lyrics because they're beautiful and I'm horribly biased towards my favorite band (EDIT: originally all the chapter titles were too, but this fic ended up being too long and the chapters too short for that work all the way)
> 
> thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The previous day, Ike swore to protect him. Albeit silently, Soren is the one who swears to protect Ike now. He’ll die before he lets anything else befall him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter: references to past child abuse, non-graphic descriptions of violence, character death, memory loss. You know, the whole fun losing Elena experience.
> 
> Pacing might be a bit odd because I deleted two entire scenes (which were boring and unnecessary) and now no matter how I look at this chapter it feels weird. I think I might just have looked at it for too long, it's been a month and all that jazz. And sorry the happiness ended so quickly, but I wanted to follow the canon timeline and in canon Elena dies the day after Ike and Soren meet. I still hope you enjoy reading!

Ike hadn’t realized Soren had gotten grime all over his side and back until his mother pointed it out. He’s not really mad about it, since he's usually a rowdy boy that gets dirty often and he would’ve accompanied Soren to the bath either way. In a way, he’s glad he has an excuse to be able to keep his promise to the other boy. He isn't sure about what kind of horrors or dangers one could encounter in a bathroom, but he’s determined to protect Soren from them anyway.

Soren seems to trust him completely now. There’s been a change of attitude along the way, and now the other boy looks at him with a light on his eyes that Ike doesn’t understand, but is still flattered by. It makes him feel a bit flustered, but also strong and important, like he is much more than just a child that can’t even brush his friend’s hair without accidentally tugging on it.

“This is so much harder than with Mist,” he grumbles under his breath as his fingers catch on another knot. When Soren cocks his head to the side and stares at him questioningly, Ike clarifies. “My little sister. She has short hair so when I brush her hair for her it’s never this tricky.”

He’s been working on Soren’s hair for a while now. It’s still full of soap, but that’s only because it’s on its second wash. The water had come away a very dark brown when they’d first rinsed it, and the hair had ended up looking even more messy than it’d been before.

“What if we cut it?” He asks, fed up. “Won’t that be easier? Or do you prefer to wear it long?”

Soren shrugs like it doesn’t matter, and Ike gets a strange feeling, like Soren would go to the moon and back if Ike asked him to do it. He suddenly feels like he’s forcing Soren into cutting his hair even if he doesn’t really want to, so he buries his hands in dark locks again, mumbling a “nevermind”. It’s not like he’s in a hurry, he has already washed himself and all, so it won't kill him to be patient. He slows his ministrations and looks down at Soren’s body.

Apparently, despite his mother’s healing, Soren is still too hurt to move comfortably. He couldn’t reach his back or his head, wincing in pain whenever he tried. Ike had rushed to help when he saw that, and so he spent a good few minutes running a sponge through marred skin. Soren’s thin body is full of bruises of varying size and color, some a fading yellow that make the boy look even more sickly than he already did before; others an angry purple that have Ike afraid to imagine how they were formed. Under the bruises, there are scars. Some are small and scattered all over his nape and back, others are bigger, located on his arms. Some look like they were burns once, others like lightning had struck the skin several times over.

Once they had gotten Soren out of his rags, Ike almost screamed for his mother to come. He wanted to ask how someone so young had gotten all of those wounds, but knowing Soren didn’t have the words to answer, he settled for asking if he was okay. Soren had nodded, and Ike hasn’t said anything more about the scars and the bruises. His eyes keep darting down to them and it makes his heart ache to think about the pain his new friend has been through, but nothing makes his heart ache more than the fact that he can’t even fathom just how any of this has felt. Ike has a single scar over his brow that he got because he tripped and fell on his face once. That is all the hardship his body has endured during his life, a life that cannot have been much longer, or shorter, than Soren’s.

There is a single mark in Soren’s skin that doesn't look like a scar: a bright red brand right in the middle of his forehead. His hair had been covering it before, but now it's in plain sight, and in Ike’s opinion it looks pretty cool. Ike slows his hands after working through another knot and lets his head tip forward until his forehead brushes against Soren’s.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispers. Soren looks at Ike like he just picked all the stars from the sky and handed them to him, and somehow it makes Ike’s heart ache even more. He wraps his arms around Soren’s neck and pulls him forward, trying to concentrate on the healthy warmth of his skin instead of the sickly thinness of his body. Soren sighs softly and reciprocates the hug, and Ike brings his hands back to his hair, brushing it slowly.

They stay like that for a long while and Ike loses track of time. Before he knows it, the water has gone cold around them and Soren’s hair is falling straight and silky, reaching his shoulder blades. He helps Soren to his feet, and in the same way that he helped him wash, he helps him dry himself, his eyes lingering on the scars once more. He lends him some of his clothes, which would fit him well if he wasn’t so thin. Ike smiles, though, because he looks warm and comfortable, and there is color on his cheeks, and that makes him happy.

Just as he had earlier on, Soren holds onto Ike's arm when they walk to the living room. He hides partially behind him, and Ike makes sure to walk tall and provide as much of a cover as he can for the other boy. He still doesn't have any idea as to why Soren is so afraid of people that would never do him any harm, but Ike is a big boy that takes the lessons his mother has taught him to heart. He had teased Mist over her tendency to cry over insignificant things once, and his mother had scolded him a lot. She had told him to never invalidate other people's feelings, even if he didn't understand them, so he's not about to doubt Soren. There are many things that Ike doesn't understand in the world. But, considering how scarred his body is, he can at least tell that Soren's fears aren't unfounded. So he straightens his spine when they step into the living room and he can see his mother and his sister, Mist seated on Elena’s lap.

"We're done," he says to announce their presence. Mist snaps her head up at the sound of his voice, a contrast to the way in which Elena slowly shifts to look at the boys. Soren flinches from Ike's side and tries to hide further behind him.

"Is that him?" Mist asks, a shine in her eye—the same one she always gets when meeting new people near her age. That seems to be the wrong approach, because Soren hides fully now, gluing to his back in a way that must have him completely out of sight.

"What have I told you, Mist?" Elena chides as Mist slides off of her lap and pads towards the boys. Those words have the little girl turning to look at her mother.

"To be calm and respected!"

"Respectful."

"Respectful," Mist echoes, nodding enthusiastically.

Ike thinks he can feel his friend trembling behind him, so he turns his head slightly to whisper in his ear, "she's a bit hyper, but she’s never hurt a fly."

Soren doesn’t answer with any gesture, and all he does is burrow closer to him. Ike just shrugs inwardly and stands up straight again. Mist plants herself in front of him, and true to the words she said to their mother, she tries to peek behind Ike but doesn’t move from her spot, letting her brother act as a shield.

“I’m Mist!” She chirps with a small bounce on the back of her feet. “Are you staying with us forever?”

“Oh,” Ike says, looking back at Soren. “Are you?”

“Ike, Mist,” Elena sighs, “let’s not ask these questions so early.”

“But I want a new older brother!” Mist protests. “Ike stinks!”

Ike bristles at that. “I don’t stink, I just took a bath! You’re the one that stinks!”

“Children,” Elena says, her tone quiet but firm. “Lower your voice, you’re scaring him.”

It’s only then that Ike realizes that Soren’s warmth is gone, and he turns around to find him standing a step away from him, his hands clasped together in front of his chest. His eyes are wide, the fear in them not as intense as the one he showed when they’d just met, but still present all the same. Arguing with Mist and raising his voice is something normal for him, but with someone as vulnerable and scarred as Soren, he sees how that would scare him. Maybe he thought they were going to hurt each other? Ike’s heart sinks at that thought.

“I’m sorry, Soren,” he says, “Mist and I love each other a lot, okay? We yell sometimes, but we’ll never hurt each other.”

Soren bliks a couple of times and then nods slowly, closing the distance between them again. Ike smiles, and Soren dips his head shyly. He immediately flinches again, but this time it’s because Mist has stepped forward and grabbed the hem of his shirt with two fingers.

“Are you upset because of me?” The girl asks, her eyes watering. Mist is very little and still acts like a crybaby most of the time, so the tears don’t surprise Ike. They seem to surprise Soren, however, because the boy makes a small noise from the back of his throat and shakes his head with vehemence. Ike feels a little relieved at that, happy that his friend is minding his sister’s feelings, even if he’s afraid of her. Soren is probably shaking his head because he doesn’t want to deal with Mist’s tears, or maybe he’s doing it because he thinks it’s both Ike and Mist’s fault instead of Mist’s alone. Either way, Ike doesn't care. He wants Soren and Mist to get along and feel comfortable around each other, and he can tell this is the first step towards that.

“Soren?” Elena calls from her seat, her features softening into a smile. She reaches for the same parchment and book she had given Soren before, and extends it towards them. “You can have this back. And please know that you can stay here for as long as you need to, okay? There’s no need to make a difficult decision just yet.”

To Ike’s surprise, Soren lets Ike go and walks towards Elena, taking the writing materials from her hands and rapidly scribbling something down on the parchment. He shows it to her, and her smile widens a little. It’s her reassuring smile, the one she uses when she wants to make her kids believe that everything will be okay.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “Greil is a very kind man. He might look a little scary, but he’s always been accepting of others.”

Soren nods and goes back to writing something. Ike approaches slowly, kind of awed at the trust the boy seems to have in his mother. He had seemed terrified of her a couple of hours ago, but even if he still seems a bit wary, he doesn’t seem too reluctant to be near her. Ike can’t make sense of Soren’s mind, of how he decides if someone scares him or not, but that train of thought disappears as soon as he peeks over Soren’s shoulder.

“Wow, your handwriting is so neat,” he says, eyes widening as he looks at the paper. He can sort of make out the words on it, questions about other family members, and then one asking where Greil was. Ike can read, but slowly, and only if the handwriting is clear and the words are short. He’s impressed at how easily he can read Soren’s handwriting, especially when he barely understands his own. “Father is on a job, he’ll be home later,” he answers the question on the paper before tearing his eyes away from it and looking up at Soren. “Hey, how come you write so good? You can’t be much older than me.”

“He has to!” Mist chimes in from a few steps away, looking at the boys with a silly grin. She’d been to the brink of tears a few moments before, but she bounces back fast. She points at Ike. “He’s taller than you!”

“What? He’s not.” He looks at Soren, whose eyes are rapidly darting between the siblings. Ike has to remind himself to lower his volume when he says, “wait, stop hunching.”

Soren looks away nervously and clutches the book with the parchment to his chest, but he does as Ike asks and straightens his spine. Ike narrows his eyes as soon as he’s forced to crane his neck to look up. Granted, they only have a few inches between them so it’s not a notable height difference, but it still exists.

“Well,” Ike says, feeling like he has lost a game he didn’t know he was playing. “I’ll grow soon. I’ll be tall like father.”

Soren looks at him for a little, his expression neutral. He then looks down at the parchment, where he’d started a line that he hadn’t finished. He brings the pen down to it, but he now writes slowly, as if insecure. He shows the parchment to Ike, who takes a little to make out the words ‘I don’t know when I was born’.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ike says, even if he thinks it’s a little sad that Soren doesn’t have a birthday because his mother always cooks really good food when it’s someone’s birthday. “I’ll still be taller than you.”

Soren’s eyes widen at that, and glint that makes him look almost joyous passes through them. He nods, a jerky sort of gesture that makes his hair fall forward and cover most of his face. It already covered much of it before, long and messy as it was, but when an entire eye is hidden behind it, Ike frowns. That just looks uncomfortable.

His mother seems to think the same, because she speaks up to say, “Your hair gets in the way, doesn't it, Soren? Would you like me to tie it back?”

Soren shrugs as he tucks a random strand of hair behind his ear, which makes some other strands stick up in odd angles. It looks kinda funny, so Ike reaches forward to ruffle the other boy’s hair. Soren makes a noise of complaint, but Ike is gentle with his hand and he knows he’s not inflicting any pain. It’s his dad’s way of showing affection, so he does it too.

“Alright, young man, hand him over,” Elena says with a playful tone as she tugs her own hair loose. She holds her hairband with one hand and beckons Soren closer with the other. “Come here, I’ll lend this one to you.”

The boy steps closer to her, but tugs on Ike’s sleeve. Ike sees traces of fear in scarlet eyes again, so he reaches over and takes one of Soren’s hand in his own. As much as he seems to have relaxed around Elena, Ike remembers his reaction to being asked if she could touch him. He probably hates being touched by adults, or maybe by just people who aren't Ike. Ike sends him a reassuring smile and Soren squeezes his hand, turning so his back is facing Elena. She reaches forward and slowly brushes Sorens hair back.

“Is it okay if I tie it like I tie mine?” She waits for Soren to nod his consent, and starts gathering into a low ponytail, a playful smile on her lips. “Thank Ashera. To be honest, I don't really know how to do any hairdos that aren't this one.”

“That's true,” Mist agrees, pouting a little. “She always messes up my hair! Even though it's short and easy!”

“Maybe I won't if you let it grow!” Elena retorts, her voice filled with mirth.

“But I like it short!”

“And it suits you like that, sweetie. But long hair is pretty too, don't you think?”

“I think so,” Ike intervenes, looking at Soren. Elena has finished rather quickly, and Soren now has his raven hair tied back neatly, framing his face but leaving it uncovered. Ike can finally see his face clearly.

Soren is unlike anyone Ike has ever seen. His features are sharp for a kid his age, but his eyes are big and bright, and their color complements the mark that rests right in the middle of his forehead. His dark hair contrasts nicely with his pale skin and red eyes, and Ike truly finds him something pretty. Maybe it's his uniqueness, maybe it's how he already feels attached to him, maybe it's just his natural zeal for the unknown; Ike doesn't care. When clean, fed and healthy, Soren is beautiful, and when the boy flicks his eyes at him and then averts them bashfully, Ike realizes that he sort of wants to look at him forever.

 

* * *

 

Greil is terrifying. He's everything the adults in Soren’s life were not: young and healthy, bulky and strong. He looks scarier than every villager that has shunned Soren, waved sticks and thrown rocks at him while yelling profanities. He has a huge sword strapped to his back when he walks into the house late at night, and a scowl hardening his features when his eyes settle on the unknown boy occupying his house.

 _He's going to kill me,_ Soren thinks when Greil’s jaw clenches. He towers over everyone in the house, he's _huge_ , and he's going to kill Soren.

But then Greil exchanges a look with Elena and his expression softens. He leans down to place a tender kiss on the top of Mist’s head and then affectionately ruffles Ike's hair (Soren is scared for the other boy until he hears him laughing and sees him looking at his father like he has all the answers in the world). Greil gives a short nod at Soren, smiling faintly, and then follows Elena into another room so she can presumably explain the situation to him. They take Mist with them so they can put her to bed, and Soren is left alone with Ike for the first time since noon.

“Isn't my father really cool?” Ike asks him with an excited grin.

 _No, he's terrifying,_ Soren thinks.

“He's great with the sword, you know?”

_Great, so he could kill me in an instant._

“One day I'm gonna be as good as him,” Ike says with pride in his voice.

Soren looks at Ike for a moment before pushing back his bitter thoughts and writing down ‘I bet you will’ on his second piece of parchment. He feels bad for wasting perfectly good paper, but Ike’s family has been nothing if encouraging for him to communicate, so he has continued to do so for the entire day.

“Right,” Ike replies once he has read the message. “And then I'll protect you.”

Soren’s chest warms, and he wastes no time in writing ‘I'll protect you too.’

Ike is a slow reader, but his mouth falls open when he finishes reading and he looks at Soren with excitement shining in his blue eyes.

“You can fight?”

‘Sort of. I've been trained in magic.’

“Really?! What kind?”

‘Wind, fire and thunder. Wind magic is the one I’m most proficient at.’

“Soren! That's so cool! You have to be really smart to do magic, you know?”

‘Do you?’

“Yeah! I mean, I already know you’re smart, ‘cause you write better than Father does.”

“Oh, does he really?”

Both boys turn to face Greil, who has entered the room without either of them noticing. Soren looks down at the parchment and tries to discreetly cover it with his hands only to notice that they are shaking.

Will Greil be angry at Ike for that comment? Will he hit Ike? Ike’s body doesn’t have any scars or bruises that Soren could see during the bath, but there is more than one way to exert punishment on a child, and Ike has spoken out of line. Greil’s heavy footsteps approach, and Soren shuts his eyes tight, expecting the worst.  

“That’s impressive, boy,” Greil says, his voice low and rumbling, but not unkind. “Trained in magic too, huh? You’re certain to pull your own weight.”

Soren blinks his eyes open and stares up at Greil, whose lips are upturned just a little, even if a frown is still present in his face. Soren is still confused about those words and that demeanor, but Ike just _beams_.

“Does that mean he can stay?” the boy asks, and Greil nods.

“Of course. If you’ll share your room with him, that is.”

“Sure, no problem!” He says, hopping off his seat and walking towards Soren. He grabs his hand and Soren lets him, still stunned. “Let’s go, I bet you’re tired.”

 _Are you?_ he wants to ask when he takes in the way in which Ike seems to be glowing with energy and excitement. He’s been like that since his father’s arrival, and it’s only been amplified by Greil’s acceptance of Soren. Soren wonders how loving and admiring someone so intensely feels like, and if he’ll ever be able to experience those feelings.

 _Maybe I will,_ he thinks absently as Ike bids his father goodnight and gently tugs him towards his room. Ike is speaking about his father’s job, but Soren doesn’t listen as much as he should, focusing instead on the glint of his eyes, and the secure warmth of his body as they climb into bed together and Ike reaches out to hold his hand. _Maybe I will,_ he thinks again as he closes his eyes and lets Ike’s voice lull him to sleep. _Maybe one day, towards you._

 

* * *

 

It's when Ike wakes up much later than he's used to that he realizes something is wrong. He doesn't usually sleep in, but the previous day left him tired, and the comfort of a warm body sleeping besides him makes him reluctant to leave the sheets.

But the minutes pass and neither Greil nor Elena come to wake them up, and he starts noticing how the muffled noises coming from the town aren't the noises of a bustling marketplace, but those of pain and violence. Ike isn't used to hearing them so it takes him a bit to identify them for what they are, but after a few shrill screams he opens his eyes and sits up, alarmed.

Soren is also awake, sitting with his back reclined against the headboard and curled around himself. Ike’s brows draw in concern when their eyes meet. Soren looks like a scared animal again, and at another shriek coming from outside, his breathing audibly hitches. Ike’s own breathing speeds up.

“I'm gonna look for my parents,” he says. “Do you want to stay or do you want to come?”

Soren looks conflicted, but Ike frankly doesn't have the patience to let him take his time right now. There's a feeling in his gut that tells him something is terribly wrong with his parents, and he’s extremely worried.

“They always come wake me up,” he says, and for a second he isn't sure if he's saying it to Soren or to reminding it to himself. “Something happened. I'm going.”

And with that, Ike slides off the bed and goes to put on his shoes, not bothering to change out of the clothes he's slept in. He rushes through it and pays no attention to anything but the task at hand, so when he stands up and starts walking towards the door, he's surprised to find Soren there, also standing and seemingly ready to go.

A sigh of relief escapes Ike then, and that makes him realize how scared he is to face whatever is happening alone.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering his hand, and Soren takes it with a grave expression.

They check Greil and Elena’s room first, and it's empty, the bedsheets thrown askew. They check Mist’s room later and, she's thankfully safe and in bed. She's awake though, sleepily rubbing at her eyes.

“Ike? Soren?” she asks. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, Mist,” Ike lies. “Stay where you are, okay? Don't move.”

Mist starts protesting, but Ike pays her no mind and slams the door shut. They quickly look at the other rooms, but Ike knows they'll find them empty. He has to go outside the house. He won't find them inside.

“Do you want to stay inside?” Ike asks Soren, who’s been shaking with fear the whole time.

Soren shakes his head, a momentary flicker of determination in that terrified gaze, and Ike silently thanks him for it. He needs someone to stand by his side. He's so, _so_ scared, his legs are shaking.

She they go to the front door together, and throw it open. Ike’s gaze could have darted to the bodies littering the ground and the blood plastered on the walls, but it immediately falls on the figures of his parents, and the sword that pierces his mother’s heart. His eyes follow the blade until he sees the hand that holds it.

It's the hand that ruffled his hair the night before, a hand that he knows very well. Ike stares at his father as he kills his mother, and feels himself going numb. A small hand tightens around his, but he can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything.

 

* * *

 

Greil pulls his sword out of Elena’s chest, and they both fall to the ground. Soren stares at the puddle of blood that forms around the woman that took him in, healed him, listened to him, and showed him how to tie his hair. This is nothing like the time the sage keeled over and died, something natural and non-violent that happened to someone Soren cared nothing for. This is horrifying, and Soren doesn't understand. He thought he'd been wrong about Greil, that he was a loving man despite his scary looks, that he cared for his family. But then what is this? What in Ashera’s name is this?

He tears his gaze away from the bodies on the ground and turns to look at Ike. The boy’s stare is hollow and lifeless, like the strike that killed his mother has killed him too, and Soren’s heart sinks to the ground. His eyes had been so bright and full of life just a few hours before, yet now they make him look like an empty husk, like something broken and irreparable.

Soren stands there, at a loss on what to do. Maybe if he’d worked up the courage to go outside before Ike woke up things would have been different. Maybe if he’d managed to arrive to the scene before Greil killed Elena, maybe if he’d had a tome to bring down the man… But would he have been able to kill, to deprive Ike of a father instead of a mother? Was there anything he could have done? Is there anything he can still do? Greil was crying and holding Elena in his arms when they’d fallen to the ground, but it seems that his consciousness has slipped away from him while Soren was looking elsewhere, as he’s now lying on the ground with his eyes closed, loosely holding onto his wife.

 _I have to check if he’s still alive_ , Soren tells himself, but he stays rooted where he is. Greil just ended his wife’s life, and probably others too. Only a monster would do that. Only the worst of the worst would do that. If the townspeople and Elena were first, then Ike will surely be next. Is it so bad if Soren lets Greil die, when he may hurt those he loves?

So Soren stays by Ike’s side, still grasping his hand tightly, his eyes glued to the bodies on the ground. He hears voices approaching, but his shock and fear prevent him from moving from his spot. Two cloaked men enter the street and one of them rushes towards Greil, kneeling besides him.

“General!” he calls, reaching for Greil’s neck, presumably to search for his pulse. “Oh, thank the goddess… He’s still alive.” He stands up and trains his eyes on Elena, the relief leaving his expression. “But… oh, no… What has he done? Elena… did he kill her?”

“It must have been the medallion,” the other man intervenes. His voice is calm and serene, but he looks sorrowful as he looks down at Elena’s body. “He touched it, and the chaos bound within sent him into a rage beyond reason.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Tragic…”

The medallion? Soren casts his eyes down and notices a glowing medallion in Elena’s hand. He has no idea how he hadn’t seen it before, considering how it’s encapsulated in blue flames that don’t seem to burn the skin of Elena’s hand. He senses the magic flowing from the medallion, and considering the man’s words, he reaches the conclusion that it must be cursed in some way or another. Then… then maybe Greil hadn’t killed because he wanted to. Maybe Ike can still have a father.

Soren is startled out of his thoughts when he hears a door opening, followed by, “Ike, wait for me!”

The men finally notice them and turn to look at them, but their eyes don’t meet. Soren is looking at Mist, wide-eyed. She has gotten dressed properly, and she’s approaching them as if nothing's wrong. Ike is the only one who keeps his gaze steady, glued to the bodies of his parents.

“Ah! Father! Mother!” Mist exclaims, nearing them, and Soren reaches out to grab her wrist and stop her. He doesn’t manage to reach her, but he doesn’t chase after her. He stays by Ike’s side.

“The general’s children…” the short-haired man murmurs, catching Mist’s attention.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, and asks, “What’s wrong with them? Are they asleep?” She looks down at her parents. “Father? Mother?”

Soren inhales shakily and looks down at his feet. He doesn’t want to cross gazes with Mist. He doesn’t want to tell her her mother died.

“They’re very tired, child,” one of the men says. “Let’s not disturb them.”

“We can't leave them sleeping here!” Mist complains, stomping her feet. “It's cold out! We have to take them home!” She turns to Ike and Soren, puffing out her cheeks. “Ike, you have to help me!”

Ike says nothing, his gaze unmoved. Soren purses his lips, worry gnawing at his gut. He squeezes his hand again, but he gets no reaction whatsoever.

“Ike?” Mist asks, her tone shifting into something hesitant, like she’s finally starting to grasp the gravity of the situation. But that’s bad, because Elena is gone, Greil is out cold, and Ike isn’t responding. That only leaves Soren to take care of Mist—which is something he _has_ to do, because he can’t let Ike lose a sister too. But if he watches out for Mist, he won’t be able to watch out for Ike, he’ll have to leave his side. He doesn’t want that.

The previous day, Ike swore to protect him. Albeit silently, Soren is the one who swears to protect Ike now. He’ll die before he lets anything else befall him.

“I'll take them home,” one of the men says, thankfully taking the task out of Soren’s shoulders. “Will you show me the way?”

“Yeah! Come with me!”

The stranger approaches Greil and hoists him up with little difficulty. He holds him with great care and slowly walks towards the house. Soren checks to see that Mist is following, and then turns to look at the other stranger. The man is kneeling in front of Elena now. There is something he does with his hands, some kind of magic Soren doesn’t identify. It drains the blood from the ground and her clothes, and makes her look more like her usual self, like she’s just sleeping and will wake up at any moment.

“May your final slumber be a peaceful one,” the man murmurs, his hands drawn together in prayer. He opens his eyes and reaches for the medallion, but his hand halts midway.

“Ah, hey!” Mist’s voice cuts through the air, and she pads towards her mother’s body, protectively standing between her and the man. “That’s my mother’s medallion!” She says. “No one’s supposed to see it!”

“No, child!” The man says when Mist leans down to take the medallion. Her fingers are already on it when he continues, “you mustn’t touch it!”

But Mist does, and the blue flames flicker briefly before dying down. Soren senses the magic within the medallion becoming dormant. He doesn’t understand how the thing works, but it seems to be safe in Mist’s hands.

“We can’t let it get lost,” Mist says calmly, and Soren thinks she looks very strong at the moment. “I’ll keep it.”

“You… you are unchanged?” The long-haired man asks, but Mist is already ignoring him and padding towards his companion to ask him to carry Elena home too. The man does as he’s asked, Mist following close behind.

It is then that the stranger that remains with them turns to the boys, his brows drawn together in concern. He sets his eyes on Soren first, and they widen with something akin to recognition that has Soren tensing and drawing closer to Ike. He then looks at Ike, and his expression turns sympathetic.

“You saw everything, didn’t you?” He asks, nearing them. Soren wants to take a step back, but Ike stays glued to his spot, and so does he. “Poor child.”

He murmurs something under his breath, and his staff lights up. That same light slowly engulfs Ike’s body, and while Soren is frightened by the unknown magic touching his friend, it doesn’t feel hostile. It’s warm and gentle, and he allows it.

Until Ike starts screaming, that is. The boy lurches forward, letting go of Soren to grab his own hair, panting and writhing in agony. Soren is immediately on Ike, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close to his chest. Ike grabs onto him hard, so painfully hard Soren knows it’ll bruise, but he is used to pain and he allows it, glaring up at the man instead.

The man looks serene as he continues casting his magic, and a surge of pure, unfiltered rage courses through Soren. He has never wanted to kill someone, not when the woman treated him like dirt, not when the sage forced him to train in inhumane conditions, not when the villagers beat him senseless. But now, right this instant, he wants to claw at this man’s neck, to make him suffer, bleed and die for ever daring to bring harm upon Ike. His feelings are so intense they make his heart burn, and the man himself winces, sending an alarmed look at Soren. Soren barely registers the sounds of Mist and the other man coming back outside and asking questions, his gaze locked with the stranger’s. His eyes are green, bright and glistening with something that could be either tears or just plain sadness.

“Give me a moment,” the long-haired man says, and as his staff glows again, Ike’s screams subside, his eyes close, and his full weight rests on Soren, who lets himself fall on his knees to be able to support the unconscious boy. He casts a quick glance to the side to see that Mist is sleeping too, and he glares up at the man again. “Sweet children… Sleep now. Rest.”

“What did you do to him?” The other man asks, and Soren is glad for the question. He wants—no, needs—to know what has happened to Ike.

“Merely help him to forget. I could not leave this memory to haunt him. It is too heavy a burden for one so young.”

“Then what about the other one?”

Both men look at Soren and he tries not to squirm under their gazes, desperately holding onto Ike and his own determination. They look strong and are armed, they could probably take him down in a heartbeat, but he has to protect Ike, and he can’t do so by cowering away.

“He is already burdened, in many other ways,” the long-haired man answers, kneeling before Soren. The boy appreciates not having the man loom over him anymore, but his words concern him. How could he know what Soren is burdened by? “I’m giving you a choice, child,” he says. “I can help you forget this, and everything that has ever hurt you. Will you take that offer?”

Soren gapes at him. He has often hoped he could forget his suffering, often wished he could live unburdened, without the feeling that his mere existence is a sin. He knows the sights that he has experienced today will haunt him in his nightmares if he survives the day, only adding onto his suffering, only making him a more miserable person.

But if he forgets, how will he know to be cautious when he meets other people? If he forgets, won’t he just suffer the same fate again, become miserable again? If he forgets, how will he be able to protect Ike? Without his knowledge of magic, and his knowledge of the things that have happened, how will he ever be anything but a burden to him?

Soren feels a part of himself breaking when he shakes his head, but he does it anyway, firm and unrelenting. This is something he will not regret. Ike is something he will never regret.

To Soren’s surprise, the man smiles.

“You are very brave,” he says. “I trust you understand why I made the boy forget, and why you should better keep this a secret from him, right?” Soren nods, and the man’s smile widens. “Good.”

“Isn’t this risky?” The other man asks.

“Maybe so,” the long-haired one answers. “But don’t you feel it too? Come closer.”

It takes every ounce of willpower that Soren possesses to not flinch away as the other man, who is much bigger and much more intimidating, approaches him. The man’s eyes widen when they meet Soren’s, and Soren tightens his arms around Ike.

“You…” the man says, kneeling down too. He looks suddenly vulnerable, like he’s just a child in the same way that Soren is. His eyes are fixed on Soren’s forehead. “You’re…”

“Never forget that you have a right to live,” the other man intervenes, looking at Soren first and then turning his gaze to his companion. “That there are other people like you. And that your life is worth living.” He turns back to Soren. “Rest well now, brave one.”

Soren catches a brief glance of the glow of the man’s staff before everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

When Titania receives the letter from Greil, she doesn’t hesitate to leave Castle Gallia. She doesn’t meet him and his kids at their house, but heads towards the northern border instead. He finds them there, seated at a tavern, Ike and Mist eating from a big plate while Greil sits with his back hunched. Titania is deeply shocked by the image of Greil, the strongest man she has ever met, looking so tired, so miserable, so wrecked. She is even more surprised, however, to see an unknown child seated next to Ike, looking as bad as—if not worse than—Greil. He is small, thin, and looks far too broken for someone so little. Ike offers him food, and the boy shakes his head. The scene fills Titania with an overwhelming sadness that she only sets apart in order to move forward and give Ike and Mist a hug.

She learns that the boy’s name is Soren, that Ike picked him up when he was dying of starvation, that he cannot speak, and that he was there to see Elena lose her life.

“He’s scared of me,” Greil says later that day, when they’re resting at an inn before marching towards Crimea. He’s sitting on a bed, his head buried in his hands. “He looks at me like the monster I became.”

“Do you think he’ll tell Ike and Mist?” Titania asks, setting a sympathetic hand on Greil’s shoulder.

“He won’t,” Greil answers. “He’s smart, and cares for Ike. Elena almost begged me for him to stay with us. He’s staying with us.”

Titania smiles sadly at that, and squeezes Greil’s shoulder.

“Would you have kicked him out if she hadn’t begged?” She whispers, knowing the answer.

Greil shakes his head no, and Titania sincerely hopes that Soren will learn how to trust Greil. He is the kindest man she has ever met.  

The next morning, Soren taps Titania’s shoulder and holds out a piece of parchment that has writing all over it. He points at one line, which reads ‘I need a wind tome’. Titania buys it for him, and from then on Soren keeps it with him at all times, always carrying in the crook of an elbow. His free hand, Titania notices as they cross the border, is always holding Ike in some way or another.

“I’ll take care of Greil,” she whispers to him once they’re in Crimea. “I’m leaving Ike to you.”

Soren nods wordlessly, his stare fierce, his eyes strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've debated with myself a lot when it comes to Sephiran's words in this chapter, wondering if I'm making him OOC by having him tell Soren to treasure his life when he's going to go into his suicidal temper tantrum in a few years and try to bring everyone down with him. But I've always seen Sephiran as someone kind, tortured but kind, and in the way in which he loved and nurtured Sanaki and provided support for Zelgius I see that he never wanted people to suffer, and would want them to treasure their life while they still had it. Iiiiii don't know, discuss it in the comments if you want to, I'd honestly love to hear other opinions (of this and the rest too, I worked real hard on it and feedback is appreciated). 
> 
> Anyway, I'm warning now since the early childhood period of this fic is done and over: I'll do small timeskips throughout this fic, since I am intending to follow their lives together and I will not be going day by day like this, dear god, can you imagine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren’s speaking voice is lower and smoother than Ike expected it to be. He’s only heard his voice a small number of times before, and it was always in noises of surprise or distress, which were a much higher pitch than his actual speaking voice is. It suits him, however, the tone that is deeper than expected in a boy that acts older than he looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone! Have an update that is oddly focused on hair. I'm not sure what happened, probably my subconcious staring at the Soren illustrations I have as my phone background and going "hhnnnrrggrr pretty hair let's talk about that".
> 
> By the way, I have a twitter [@deformedcities](https://twitter.com/deformedcities/) where I talk about tellius a lot, if you want to check it out. By my pinned tweet you'll see that I am an absolute intellectual who always tweets tasteful things that aren't garbage at all, yes.

“Chin up, Soren, you've got nothing to worry about,” Titania says. “You’re doing great. He’ll be delighted.”

Soren purses his lips and looks down. Titania is nothing short of strict, and Soren knows that if she gives him positive reinforcement about his progress, she really means it. But Soren feels clumsy and sluggish, inadequate and unworthy. Doubt swirls in his mind and battles against his belief in Ike’s natural kindness.

“You don't have to keep it a surprise, you know?” Titania continues. “You can take it little by little, with him at your side.”

“I can't,” Soren says, clenching his fists. “When I'm with him my mind… doesn't work as well. Words… get stuck. I… I…”

_I have to be perfect for him._

“Soren… You’ve learned exceptionally fast, you know?” Titania reaches forward to put a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away and hugs his own stomach. Titania frowns, but she’s used to this by now so she pulls away. “You have an incredible grasp of language, and you’ve practiced plenty with me. All that’s holding you back now are your emotions.”

“I know,” he replies. He’s been practicing his speech with Titania in secret for many months now, almost a year. There’s no reason to continue keeping it a secret, especially now that the Greil Mercenaries have been properly established and are starting to grow in ranks. Relying on written words and the simple language of gestures he and Ike had made up—because sometimes there wasn’t enough light to write, or Ike had simply gotten fed up with reading—was fine when it was just the four people Soren had left Gallia with. It was still fine when Gatrie and Rhys joined the ranks, because Gatrie is an idiot that takes being ignored in stride—unless the person ignoring him is a woman, that is—and Rhys mostly minds his own business and gives Soren space when he sees he’s not wanted. It stopped being fine when Shinon joined, however, because even if Shinon is clearly all bark and no bite, his words are cruel and cutting, and they make Soren feel extremely unprotected. He’s taken verbal abuse before, but that was all before meeting Ike. He’s supposed to grow stronger now, strong enough to protect Ike in every way possible, and that includes Shinon’s insults. Plus, after a year of being cared for by Ike and his family, he has developed a pride that tells him to defend himself, to stand tall and demand to be taken seriously.  

He can’t do that without speech. He knows that. But he’s scared, _terrified_ of disappointing Ike. He wants to be perfect for him, wants to be able to open his mouth and be flawlessly eloquent, to be able to tell him how much he means to him out loud.

“What if you go talk to him now?” Titania suggests after a prolonged silence. “Do it quickly so you can’t back down from it.”

Objectively speaking, it’s not a bad idea. Subjectively speaking, he hates it and wants to go hide in his room. However, the prospect of making Ike happy always manages to yank him right out of his comfort zone, so he slowly stands up.

“You’re sure he’ll be glad?” He asks hesitantly.

“Trust me, I’ve known him his whole life,” Titania assures, standing up as well. “Nothing would make him happier.”

Soren nods. He would normally argue that many other things would definitely make him happier than Soren speaking to him, like surpassing his father or being officially admitted into the mercenaries, but he supposes he can let those arguments go because none of them will happen in the near future.

Titania opens the door for him, and Soren steps through it. It’s late in the morning, so Soren assumes Ike is training outside, doing the drills his father taught him. He walks briskly and it doesn’t take long for him to step out of the fort. He tries his best to quell his anxieties as he picks up his pace until he’s running towards the forest. Lucky for him and his poor stamina, Ike always trains in the outskirts of it, right next to a flower field where Mist can entertain herself while her brother goes through repetitive motions.

Soren slows down when hears the telltale sound of a wooden sword cutting through the air. He’s not stealthy about his approach, so as soon as Ike comes into view, the other boy turns around to look at Soren.

“Hey,” he says, lowering his sword. “Is it lunchtime yet?”

The statement shouldn’t have surprised Soren because he’s usually the one in charge of fetching Ike for meals, but he was so focused on his anxieties over speaking to his friend for the first time that the words throw him off-balance. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, and then finds himself smiling fondly and shaking his head.

“Oh, then are you here to hang out?” Ike asks. “‘Cause you forgot your books.”

Soren shakes his head again. Ike has never understood how Soren can be content with just watching him train, so he often brings books with him to fool Ike into thinking Soren’s doing something other than staring at him. Ike frowns then, and he gestures something with his left hand, a silent sign from the language he and Soren made up. It’s the one that means “are you okay?”, and Soren’s small smile widens slightly.

“Yes, Ike,” he answers without thinking, his voice flowing freely thanks to Ike’s constant efforts to ensure Soren’s comfort and well-being.

Ike gapes as soon as the words leave Soren’s mouth, but it doesn’t take long for a brilliant grin to overtake his features. Just the sight of it floods Soren’s chest with warmth and makes him realize how stupid his worries were. Ike hasn’t smiled this widely ever since his mother’s death. While he retained no memories of the incident, and was never a particularly cheerful child to begin with, his light had dimmed down from that awful day onward. Seeing this smile again, the same smile Ike had on when he’d first learnt of Soren’s name, makes Soren feel equal parts relieved and flattered.

 _This smile is for me_ , he thinks, and the thought makes his eyes burn a little. _I was good enough for this smile._

Ike drops his sword to the ground and closes the distance between them in a second. He tackles Soren to the ground, probably not meaning to send them both tumbling into the grass, but only miscalculating the force of his hug. The impact hurts quite a lot and Ike reeks of sweat, but Soren still finds himself reciprocating the hug, burying his face in Ike’s hair, and wishing this moment would last forever.

 

* * *

 

 

Soren’s speaking voice is lower and smoother than Ike expected it to be. He’s only heard his voice a small number of times before, and it was always in noises of surprise or distress, which were a much higher pitch than his actual speaking voice is. It suits him, however, the tone that is deeper than expected in a boy that acts older than he looks.

It’s still a bit strange to talk to Soren and hear spoken replies. Ike remembers his reading drastically improving while communicating with Soren and he remembers making up their secret gesture language together, but he doesn’t remember why Soren never spoke even though he had a voice and a perfect grasp of language, or if that was ever explained to him. He doesn’t remember a time before Soren, really, so to him a silent Soren was just how things had always been, and he never really questioned it.

He feels a little betrayed to know that Soren had been practicing his speech with Titania in secret all along—and so does Mist, but Ike thinks she’s just throwing a temper tantrum because she can—but when Titania tells him that Soren wanted it to be a surprise and the other boy looks down shyly with his cheeks tinted a soft pink, all the bitterness disappears. The surprise was worth it; Ike doesn’t remember ever feeling happier than in the moment Soren’s lips parted and Ike’s name came out of them. He’s honored, truly. He doesn’t know what he did to gain Soren’s undivided affection, but he’s glad he has it anyway, and he plans to return it twofold.

The problem is, he doesn’t know how to do it. He already does all he knows how to do when it comes to treasuring people, and he even gives Soren some of his food sometimes! Which is pretty pointless, because Soren seems to hate all food except sandwiches. It’s odd how much he seems to enjoy sandwiches because they’re really not that special, but Ike isn’t one to judge someone for enjoying their food, and is happy to give Soren a small share of his own whenever there are sandwiches to eat. However, that is something he already does, and he doesn’t know how else to show someone he appreciates them. So he does the only natural thing in that situation: he asks Titania for advice.

“You can just tell him how much you appreciate him,” she suggests, “he’ll be elated.”

“But I’m no good with words,” Ike replies, frowning. “I won’t be able to express myself well.”

“Hm… I don’t think he’d mind that too much, but…” Titania taps her own chin a couple of times. “What if you surprise him with something too? Like a gift?”

“Oh!” Ike perks up only to droop down immediately. “But what should I give him? I’m terrible at giving gifts.”

“He’ll love anything you give him,” Titania says with a chuckle. “But why don’t you try finding out something he needs, and then come and tell me? I’ll give you gold to buy it in the market.”

“Thanks, Titania,” Ike says. “You really care about him, huh?”

Titania doesn’t reply immediately, seemingly taken aback by that comment. Her features soon ease into a familiar smile, however, and Ike finds himself smiling along with her. Titania is a bit of a mother figure to both Ike and Mist, especially since neither of them remember their mother much, but it’s even more so when it comes to Soren. When looking at them from the outside, it really seems that Titania has taken the boy under her wing, even if Soren himself doesn’t realize it.

“I do,” she confirms. “I hope that he can come to see that someday.”

“He’ll come around,” he assures. “He has a lot of love to give. He just has to learn to give it.”

Titania’s eyes widen at that statement, and Ike wonders if he’s said something weird. After all, it’s obvious to him that Soren’s heart is filled with candid adoration. He can be cross, he can be bitter, and he can be scared, but Ike knows that in his core Soren is just someone who wants to love, but was never taught how to do it, so he awkwardly stumbles through it all. He doesn’t know how anyone could miss that aspect of him, especially when from his perspective it’s so prominent.

“You’re right,” Titania says, though her expression is more guarded than before. Ike wonders why, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “You help him through that, alright?”

Ike nods. It’s fine if he’s the only one that understands Soren for now. He’s not sure where it comes from, but he’s always felt an overwhelming desire to stand by Soren’s side and help him walk through life. It’s like an unspoken promise that he never made, a promise that he’d always stand by his best friend and protect him no matter what, a promise that they’d never grow apart.

 

* * *

 

 

The Greil Mercenaries’ meeting room is a place Ike will not stop talking about. He’s always wondering aloud how it feels to sit there and discuss strategies and contracts, how the room even looks like, when the children will be allowed to go into it, among other things. Soren doesn’t share the enthusiasm, doesn’t care about the room at all, yet he finds himself seated on one of the chairs in it and looking down at his lap. He’s not looking at Greil, but he feels him there anyway, his presence as large and imposing as always.

Soren would be lying if he said he’s not afraid anymore, but at least he’s got his shaking in check and he’s managed to only come across as visibly nervous. He’s pretty proud of it, considering he doesn’t know what he’s been called for.

“I heard from Titania that you’ve learned how to speak,” Greil comments as a way to start the conversation. Soren clenches his fists over his pants and inhales deeply to ground himself.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

“Good,” Greil replies. “I wouldn’t have minded talking to you before, but you seemed uncomfortable around me and it didn’t feel fair to force you to sit down and write all the answers I wanted.”

“Writing is still easier for me,” Soren cuts in. He purses his lips, still refusing to look at Greil in the eyes. “Sir.”

“Oh, cut it out, boy,” Greil grumbles. The desk rattles, which makes Soren look up in alarm. The man has sat down on it and is running a hand through his own hair. “Listen, I know we haven’t been on the best of terms, and I can’t blame you for being afraid of me, but you can stop with the formalities. I just want to talk here.”

Soren is rendered speechless by that, and he just looks at Greil for a little while. Greil is patient and holds his stare, and although Soren isn’t sure what it is, something in his features suddenly reminds him of Ike. With quite a lot of certainty, he thinks that when Ike grows up he will look a lot like his father. That thought eases him, makes his racing heartbeat quiet down as he looks at the man sitting before him.

“O-okay,” he says, lowering his gaze a bit but not averting it completely. “What did you want to talk about?”

“The day Elena died,” Greil answers without hesitation. It’s not an unexpected topic, and Soren nods gravely. “How much did you see?”

“Not much,” Soren whispers. “When Ike and I came out, you were pulling the sword out of her chest. You lost consciousness right after.”

“What happened after that?”

“Two men came. One of them looked like he knew you, he called you General… General Gawain, I think.” Soren pauses when Greil stiffens at the mention of the name, but he continues when no words are spoken about it. “He carried you inside, and the other man erased Ike’s memories with his staff, then put him and Mist to sleep. He asked me if I wanted mine erased, but I decided to keep them. I think he cast a sleep spell on me too after that. When I came to, you were already awake.”

Greil’s almost permanent scowl deepens, and he crosses his arms.

“And here I was thinking he forgot due to the shock,” he sighs. “What did these men look like?”

“The one who knew you was very tall and broad, like you,” Soren explains. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt as he speaks. “I remember he had short hair and a square jaw but… not much more, sorry.”

“That’s okay. And the other one?”

“Long hair, green eyes and soft features. He was smaller, but a powerful mage.” Soren frowns as he looks up at Greil. “I’ve never heard of magic that erases people’s memories before. I’ve been researching what I can since then, but…”

“You haven’t had access to any helpful books, huh?” Greil says, hopping off the table and nearing Soren. Soren only flinches slightly, but he mostly manages to stay still. “I’ll see what I can do about that. I don’t know jack about magic, so if I can get you to some decent libraries, I’d appreciate your help in the matter.”

Soren nods, of course. He’s not doing this to help Greil, he’s doing it to help Ike. He doesn’t need to be asked for his cooperation when it comes to Ike; there’s nothing in the world that matters more to him than going out of his way for the sake of his only friend.

“So you don’t know who they could be?” Soren asks, and Greil shakes his head.

“The long-haired one I have no idea. The other one could be anyone that used to serve under me.” He pauses for a second, and then his expression softens. “I used to be a Daein General. I met Elena thanks to that post, and changed my name when I left it.”

“I… see,” Soren answers. He doesn’t know what to reply to that, or why Greil is telling him in the first place. He looks down at his lap again, but he feels significantly calmer than before. This conversation with Greil isn’t as much of a wreck as he expected it to be.

“Why did you decide to keep your memories?” Greil asks out of the sudden, prompting Soren to look back up at him.

“To protect Ike,” he says without hesitation.

“From me?”

Soren purses his lips, wondering if that’s a trick question, if he will get hurt in the case he answer with the truth. Greil has been honest with him in this conversation, though, and Soren doesn’t want to start lying midway. He takes some time to gather his courage, and then speaks.

“...if you tried to hurt him, yes,” he says. “But… I’ll protect him from everyone. Anyone who tries anything.”

Greil smiles at that, and Soren breathes an audible sigh of relief.

“You’re a strong kid, Soren,” the man says. “Even if you don’t see me that way, I consider you a part of my family, and I’m glad you’re here to help me protect it.”

The pang of guilt Soren feels at hearing those words almost makes him nauseous. He’s been fearing and distrusting Greil for so, so long, ever since the day they met, and even now he still can’t trust him fully. He knows that it likely won’t happen, but a part of him still expects the man before him to jump forward and hurt him, to go out and hurt Ike, to shatter what has become Soren’s world in a heartbeat. Greil has just acknowledged him as family and welcomed him into his most private circle; he’s been nothing but patient and understanding with Soren, and yet the boy still distrusts him?

 _There’s something wrong with me,_ Soren thinks, blinking rapidly to avoid unwanted tears from pooling in his eyes. He wishes he could change the way he feels, he wishes he could come to trust and love the man before him on command. He wishes he could get rid of all his stupid fears, but they cling to him, seep deep into his skin and settle in the core of his very being.

Soren remembers all the times he was called a monster without knowing why, and he thinks he may be beginning to understand. He doesn’t know if he can change what he is, especially since he doesn’t think he will ever able to reach out to someone about this, but he desperately wants to. He doesn’t want to be a cold, unfeeling monster. He wants to be worthy of Ike and maybe, deep down, worthy of Greil too.

He opens and clothes his mouth a few times, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. His newfound fluency doesn’t help him at all, the words he wants to speak but doesn’t know how to dying in his throat. He wonders if the problem all along has been with expressing his feelings, and if having a conversation about that will always end badly for him.

Since words fail him, he reaches behind his head and pulls at his hair tie, undoing his ponytail and handing the tie to Greil, consciously repeating the gesture Elena had done for him.

Greil stares at his hand, confused, and Soren clears his throat.

“Elena gave it to me,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat before he’s able to speak again. “Have it.”

“You have a use for it, kid,” Greil says, although his gaze lingers on the tie. “Keep it.”

“N-no,” Soren says, extending his hand even further. “You left everything behind, you have nothing to remember her by. I shouldn’t have kept it.”

“She gave it to _you_ ,” Greil insists, frowning now. “You have the right to—”

“Take it!” Soren interrupts. His lower lip quivers so he bites it. Greil isn’t getting the meaning of the gesture and Soren is becoming increasingly more insecure as the seconds pass. Much like Ike, it seems that Greil isn’t one that understands anything but the direct approach, so Soren takes a deep breath and speaks again. “I know that wasn’t you. I— well, I don’t know much about the medallion, but I know it’s at fault. If you want to, er… tell me about it. Another day, maybe. So I can understand. But I don’t… I don’t blame you, I don’t think. It’s just… I just…”

“You can’t help being scared?” Greil finishes for him. Thankfully, the man reaches for the hair tie and takes it, holding it with care. “I understand,” he murmurs, then smiles sadly. “I remember when she bought this in the market. She was really excited about how cheap it was, babbling about she’d be able to buy a hair clip for Mist with the money she saved.” He looks up at the boy, and Soren meets his gaze nervously. “Thanks. I’ll keep it well.”

Soren nods, relieved. He wonders if his feelings have gotten across, but is too afraid to ask. Still, it seems Greil doesn’t blame him for being scared, and he suddenly feels exhausted. Greil’s silence and the dip of his head sort of indicate the same too, and maybe if he had paid more attention to him before this conversation Soren would have realized that the commander is no good with words either. Any future conversations they have may prove to be difficult and tiring too but, well. Soren is willing to try.

 

* * *

 

 

Ike rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, holding a wrapped bundle behind his back. He knocks on Soren’s door a couple of times, and waits impatiently. Soren only takes a few seconds to open it, but it feels like ages to Ike.

“Ike,” Soren acknowledges. He always begins speaking by saying his name. Ike does a small bounce, giddy. “What is it?”

“Lemme in,” he says stepping into the room as soon as Soren opens the door wider. He waits for Soren to close the door and turn to him and pays no mind to his tiny frown when he thrusts the bundle into his friend’s arms. “I got these for you.”

“Why?” Soren asks, though he holds his present with care, keeping it close to his chest. It’s like he doesn’t want it taken away, even if he doesn’t understand why he has it. Even if he hasn’t even opened it yet.

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Ike explains, grinning. “Since you always do so many nice things for me.”

Soren gapes at him. He looks a little troubled, but Ike doesn’t let that discourage him. He always looks troubled when people are kind to him, like he can’t quite believe it. Ike isn’t sure why that is, but he’s used to it, and he waits for a proper reaction without letting his smile falter.

“Ike, I…” Soren frowns and looks down at the bundle he’s holding. It’s wrapped haphazardly with a big handkerchief because Ike didn’t have any nice paper to wrap it with. “You don’t owe me a thing. I’m the one who… I should be the one giving you presents. I owe you far, far more.”

“Aw, let’s not keep count?” Ike asks, taking a step towards Soren and putting a hand on his shoulders, trying to soothe him. “We’re friends, and friends give each other things just because they feel like it. I felt like it, so open it?” He awkwardly scratches the nape of his neck then. “It’s nothing special, really. I just thought you’d need them, and that they’d suit you and, um… Well, I just wanted to give you something.”

Soren gives him that one look, the one where his eyes shine and he looks like Ike is the only thing that matters in the world. Ike tries not to get embarrassed under that gaze and waits eagerly for Soren to tear his eyes away from his and look at the bundle. He holds it with even more care than before, like it’s the most precious thing he’ll ever touch, and slowly unfolds the handkerchief. He uncovers the three metal clasps that Ike personally picked out. It’d been perfect, they were originally a set of four but one had been lost, so the merchant was selling them really cheap and affordable. Their design is simple and their copper coloring is a little worn down, but Ike thinks they’ll suit Soren very nicely.

“I saw you stopped wearing your usual hair tie, and thought maybe you’d lost it,” Ike explains when Soren doesn’t say a word. “Titania said hair clasps work better than simple ties when you move around a lot, so she helped me pick these out.” He pauses a little, but Soren has his head bent down, still staring at the clasps. Ike hadn’t been nervous about the gift at all, but his friend being so unresponsive makes him a little insecure. It’s his first time buying a gift for a friend after all, he could’ve easily messed it up. “Um, you don’t have to wear all of them. Or any of them, really.”

“No, I will,” Soren replies. His voice is a little broken, and Ike’s chest fills with concern.

“Do you like them?” He asks in a quiet voice, and Soren nods.

“Yes, _Ike_ ,” he says, and the tone of his voice when he says his name is so filled with adoration that Ike gasps under his breath. Then Soren looks up with the biggest smile Ike has ever seen on him, which isn’t very big for other people, but huge and radiant for Soren. “I love them. I’ll treasure them. Thank you.”

Ike smiles back because, really, what else can he do?

Titania had told him that Soren would love anything Ike gave him, but the boy is glad he picked hair accessories because Soren starts wearing them every single day, using them to pull back dark strands into a hairdo that is slightly more intricate than the one he wore before—all just to be able to wear the three clasps at the same time. It makes Ike ridiculously happy.

A couple of months later Soren gives Ike a headband. He tells him to use it to keep his bangs out of his eyes while he trains but Ike ends up wearing it all the time because he thinks it makes him look cool and grown-up, and the exasperated but fond smile Soren makes whenever he sees him wearing it is well worth it.

Ike decides he never wants to stop giving back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, and also thank you soooo much for the comments I got in the last chapter, some of them were just so thoughtful and nice I was floored. If you have anything to say and the time to say it, please do tell me something in the comments below, it makes my day and really encourages me to keep going.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I really don't understand, then,” he grumbles. Soren doesn't reply, just looks at him fondly, and Ike squeezes his hand again. “You're always ahead of me in everything. I guess I'm a little scared of being left behind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure about how this chapter turned out, but I felt like if I kept delaying it because I wasn't happy about it I'd just never post it, so here it is. I don't like putting time markers inside the fic and I think the chapter can be understood without them, but just in case I'll say that a few years passed by, and they're entering their early teens. I have no idea when Soren started training with other mercenaries so I'm keeping the ages vague to avoid shitting on the canon I love too much :/

“Can I ask you something?” Boyd asks all of the sudden.

“What is it?” Ike replies, turning his head to throw a questioning look at his friend.  

“What’s wrong with Soren?”

Ike’s steps grow to a halt and he abruptly turns around, making Boyd bump into him. The other boy almost drops the axes he’s holding because of it, but Ike can’t be bothered to apologize or help, his eyes trained on the general direction of their fort, as if he could see Soren from that distance.

“There’s something wrong with him?” he asks. “Is he _okay_?”

He’s about ready to start sprinting to the fort, but Boyd grabs him by the belt and stops him. When Ike turns around again, Boyd is looking at him funny. So are the people in the marketplace that have noticed their momentary racket.

“Jeez, man, relax,” Boyd says, “he’s fine. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Ike sighs in relief and, feeling a little annoyed, bumps his shoulder against Boyd’s with enough force to make him almost drop the axes again. Boyd and his brothers have been with the mercenaries for a week now, and Ike and him have become fast friends. Still, Ike doesn’t really know what to make of the other boy. Boyd talks a lot and doesn’t always say nice things, but he never seems to mean the mean things he says either. He’s weird.

“Why would you say that, then? You’re weird,” he says, and Boyd tries to kick him in the shin. Ike dodges it effortlessly.

“I’m not weird, Soren’s the weird one,” Boyd insists, and Ike glares at him.

“Stop it. He’s done nothing to you, has he?”

“He has! Every time I try to greet him or talk to him he ignores me!”

“That’s just how he is.”

“A jerk?”

“No, shy. Don’t call him a jerk.”

“He doesn’t seem shy at all to me. He makes eye contact with me and all, but never says anything back.”

“You just don’t know him well, alright? It takes time for Soren to open up.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to act like a jerk in the meantime. What’s he even so arrogant for? He’s as much of a kid as we are!”

“He’s not arrogant at all!” Ike snaps. He doesn’t know anyone as insecure as Soren is, how can Boyd even begin to think he’s arrogant? “Plus, he’s amazing, even if he’s our age. Father called him to a staff meeting the other day so he could help out.”

“No way!” Boyd exclaims, his surprise seeming to overshadow his anger towards Soren.

“Yeah!” Ike smiles, proud and happy to gush over his best friend. “Apparently he’s been getting real good at numbers and strategy and stuff… and I think that’s helpful to the mercenaries ‘cause no one else here is great at it. He’s amazing, he doesn’t only know magic, but he can help out in all these different ways too. I want to be that helpful too, but all I can do is swing a sword.”

“Wow…” Boyd says, looking amazed. “Maybe that’s why he’s such a jerk. It’s gotten to his head.”

“Ugh, Boyd!” Ike groans. He thought Boyd was starting to come around, but of course he had to backtrack like that. “Come on!”

“What? I'm just saying the truth!”

“Enough, boys,” Titania chides, startling the boys that had been so caught up in their conversation they hadn’t noticed her nearing them. Her tone is light and she's smiling, but both of them clam up immediately, knowing better than to induce her rage. “Carry this,” she says as she hands Ike a bundle of iron swords.

He takes them and straps them to his back, already thinking about the ways in which he’s going to pester his father to let him use one of them during their training. He’s tired of having to stick to wooden practice swords, and he’s already built up enough strength to move to the real deal.

“Hey, Titania,” Boyd calls, making the woman look up from her shopping list. “I’m right, right? Don’t you think Soren’s a jerk too?”

“Will you let it go?” Ike protests, starting to get genuinely annoyed. Boyd sticks out his tongue at him and Ike starts to ponder the benefits of punching him in the face.

“I don’t think Soren is a jerk,” Titania answers. She looks at Boyd when she says this, but she turns to Ike for the next words. “But he _is_ rude, and not knowing how to handle human interactions isn’t an excuse for treating others poorly. He’ll have to change the way he acts someday.”

“I like the way he acts,” Ike says, knowing he sounds stubborn and childish but still determined to protect his best friend’s name. Titania’s stare remains severe though, and she sighs before turning back around and making her way down the street.

“That’s because he gives you special treatment,” Titania explains as the boys follow. “You should know that by now. Anyway, we’ve only got to get a new staff for Rhys and a few vulneraries and we’ll be done here.”

Titania’s words and tone imply that the discussion is over, which leaves Ike frustrated. If he were better with words maybe he’d be better at defending Soren, and maybe he would’ve had the last word in this argument. But alas, he doesn’t know how to convey to others the fact that they’re wrong about Soren, that just because he’s a bit cold on the outside doesn’t mean the inside is the same.

It’s become increasingly frustrating with the years. The more they grow up, the more people they meet, the more Ike has to see Soren get constantly misunderstood as a person he’s not. He wishes everyone could see how amazing the young mage truly is.

“Finally,” Boyd says, loud enough to snap Ike out of his train of thought. “I hate shopping.”

“We know, Boyd, you never shut up about it,” Titania responds, stopping in front of a staff shop and entering it before Boyd can protest. She holds the door open so the boys can follow inside, but addresses someone inside the store, “Hello, are you new?”

“Ah,” a young girl behind the counter says. She looks to be around Ike’s age, and when he meets her eyes she immediately averts her gaze as if she's been burned. Ike frowns at that, but says nothing. “N-no, my mother isn't feeling well, so I'm watching the store while my father fetches a bishop.”

“I see. I hope she gets better soon.” Titania smiles gently at the girl. “Do you mind if we take what we need ourselves?”

“Not at all! Just bring it to the counter when you’re done.”

“Alright,” Titania says, approaching the staves on display and turning her head briefly to look at Ike. “Ike, fetch me the vulneraries. About four or five is fine.”

Ike nods and does as he’s told, grabbing five for good measure and nearing the counter to drop them on it. He intends to go back to help Titania pick the staff or maybe go chat with Boyd some more, but the girl behind the counter catches his eye again. She's looking up at him weirdly, her eyes wide and her face red. Is she sick too, or something?

“H-hi,” she says meekly.

“Um, hey,” Ike replies.

“You're the mercenaries from the fort outside of town, right?” She leans forward in the counter, and Ike instinctively leans back a little, feeling like she’s a little too close for comfort.

“Yeah. Why?”

The girl blinks and looks down, and Ike’s frown deepens. He’s always bad at this kind of small talk, and the girl’s strange body language is making him feel even more awkward than usual.

“O-oh, no reason… I’ve just always wondered what you guys were like...”

“Do you want to hire us or something?” Ike asks, and when the girl looks at him with an alarmed expression he becomes even more confused than before.

“No! I just—”

“I'll take this one,” Titania interrupts, unceremoniously dropping a staff on the counter and startling the girl. She turns to Ike, looking at him with that small passive-aggressive smile she uses when she’s scolding someone. “You can wait for me outside.”

As soon as he hears that, Ike makes a beeline towards the exist, wondering why Titania was giving him that look when he’s done nothing wrong, but inwardly thanking her for saving him from that conversation anyway.

When he gets outside, he sighs loudly. Boyd comes out after him and punches him on the shoulder, hard.

“Ow!” Ike glares at the other boy, rubbing his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“What was _that_ ”—Boyd points at the store—“for?”

“What? I didn't do anything!”

“You didn't flirt back!”

“Flirt?” Ike pauses to play the conversation over in his head. “That was flirting?”

“Duh, idiot!”

Well, at least that explains why Ike felt so uncomfortable. Still, he's confused.

“That’s stupid. Why would she flirt with me?”

“I know, I'm much better-looking,” Boyd says with a sigh, which makes Ike roll his eyes. “But we’re at that age, growing up and all that, you know? You should've flirted back. Or at least replied like a normal human being.”

“Why would I do that?” Ike asks, prying his eyes away from the store to look at his friend. “I don't even know her.”

“Who cares if you know her or not? She was pretty.”

Ike crosses his arms, trying to recall her features. They’re already a little blurry in his mind, and he shrugs after a few seconds.

“I don’t know,” he says, “Soren is prettier.”

“Ew, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Ike nods. Maybe he isn’t the best at talking Soren up, but he’s confident about this. “Have you seen his face? He's really pretty.”

“He always looks like he wants to beat someone up with a book,” Boyd says with a grimace. “You find _that_ pretty? Plus, he's a boy. You're supposed to flirt with _girls_.”

Something about that rubs Ike the wrong way. He doesn’t know what about the idea that flirting with girls is something he’s supposed to do makes him feel so wrong, but the discomfort he fell inside the shop comes back and hits him full force. He clenches his fists and decides to change the subject.

“I'm supposed to focus on my mercenary training,” he shoots back. “And so are you, or you’ll end up falling behind.”

“Please!” Boyd scoffs. “I'm already much stronger than you!”

“Yeah, keep dreaming.”

“Show some results before you act so cheeky, boys,” Titania says, making both of them yelp in surprise. She’s standing right behind them, far too close and towering over them. “What, you didn’t notice me approaching again? I’ve been standing here for a while, you know.”

“Scary…” Boyd murmurs with a shudder, which earns him a smack on the back that makes him yelp again.

“Look sharp! True mercenaries shouldn’t be this scatterbrained. And Ike?” She smacks him too, making him stumble and huff. “Be nicer.”

Ike huffs again, but doesn’t protest.  

 

* * *

 

 

Soren has heard wrong. Surely, he’s misheard Greil’s words. They obviously cannot be true.

“Pardon me?” He asks, feeling more than a little bewildered.

“I’m considering sending you away to Melior,” Greil repeats, and Soren’s heart sinks to the ground.

“What? Why?” He asks. His mouth is so dry he can’t even swallow nervously. Has he done something wrong? Is he getting kicked out of the mercenary group? Will he ever be able to see Ike again? If he can’t be with Ike, how is he supposed to live his life?

“The strategy you provided us with for our last job was nothing short of incredible,” Greil explains. “There’s a mercenary group in Melior whose leader I’m an acquaintance of, they get more frequent and less dangerous jobs and are currently lacking a staff officer.”

“No offense, sir,” Soren says cautiously. “But I’m… not even a teenager. I’m far too young to have a position as a staff officer.”

“You _are_ young… and far more competent than most of the adults in this fort, lad,” Greil says with a slight grin. “All you did was read a couple of books on strategy and you’re already this good at it, all without needing someone to teach you. I want to see how good you’ll get with more hands-on experience.”

“Can’t I get hands-on experience here?”

“A backwater company like ours doesn’t get enough jobs, and the ones we get are either far too easy for you to get any real experience or far too dangerous for me to risk putting you out there.” Greil puts a hand on Soren’s shoulder, who flinches but doesn’t pull away. He hasn’t in a long while. “But if you hone these skills you’re starting to develop when you’re this young, and then come back to us, we’ll be all the more stronger for it.”

Soren breathes a quiet sigh of relief. The way in which Greil was wording things had given him the impression that he was being disposed of forever, not investing in his skills so he could become an even more valuable asset to the company. Soren actually doesn't mind that, since the more useful he becomes the more secure his place in the Greil Mercenaries will be, which guarantees him a future with Ike.

And yet, he's reluctant.

“Does it have to be now?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly.

“The position is open now,” Greil confirms. “I won't force you if you really hate the idea, but you have too much potential to leave unattended. If we had any good mages or tacticians that could tutor you here things would be different, but we don't. That's why your growth is so important to us.”

For a moment, Soren doubts that his growth really is that important to the company. Greil said so himself, they’re a backwater mercenary company that’ll probably always stay that way—especially considering how their commander couldn’t care less about fame and prestige—, so why would they need an expertly trained strategist? But this isn’t only about the company, it’s _never_ been only about the company. It’s about a dangerous medallion with a dark god trapped inside of it, and keeping the safety of the family that possesses it. The medallion may stay safe in Mist’s hands, the dark god may never awaken, but Soren’s life has been nothing but an unpredictable mess, and he’d rather be prepared for anything to go wrong. Being as strong as he can get in any skill he can master is imperative if he wants to keep Ike safe for the rest of his life.

That leaves him with only one objection, which he doesn’t hesitate to voice.

“I don't know how I feel about separating from Ike,” he murmurs.

“I know, kid,” Greil says with a sigh, withdrawing his hand from Soren’s shoulder. “But if you keep overprotecting him neither of you will grow into the men you can become on your own.”

Soren purses his lips and looks down. His devotion to Ike is something that he has felt for as long as he’s known the other boy, but he's only started to realize that said devotion is unnatural to the eyes of outsiders recently. Soren used to be the only friend Ike had that was around the same age, but things have changed with Boyd’s addition to the mercenaries. Soren has realized that his friendship with Ike cannot simply be defined as mere friendship, because mere friendship looks like what Ike and Boyd have; it looks shallower, lighter, more simple. After coming to terms with the unusual nature of his feelings for Ike, he's started observing his surroundings more, and realized the adults in the company also see their relationship as odd.

Soren doesn't care. He doesn't care about what other people think of him and Ike, as long as he's allowed to stay by his side. What he does care about, however, is not being good enough for Ike, and hindering his growth. The stronger he is, the more he betters himself, the more worthy he will become. Leaving Ike is painful, but this is all for him anyway.

“When should I be leaving?” Soren asks, looking up at Greil.

Greil smiles, satisfied, and pats him on the shoulder again. Soren doesn't flinch at all.

 

* * *

 

 

It is a known fact that Soren never leaves the door to his room open, so when Ike goes to see his friend and finds he can’t knock on the door because it’s halfway open already, he feels concerned. He hesitantly knocks on the doorway instead.

“Soren?” he calls. “Are you here?”

“Yes, Ike,” Soren responds from inside the room. “Come in.”

Ike does as he’s told, and when he sees Soren hastily getting up from what seemed a crouched position besides his bed, his concern only worsens. He takes a good look at Soren, who seems as composed at ever—but he has a certain tension to his frame, a slight shaking of his hands, that betrays that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, shutting the door behind his back. Soren’s eyes follow his movements, and he exhales slowly.

“I am,” he replies. When Ike fixes him with a hesitant glance, Soren smiles softly. “I’m not _great_ , but I’m okay, you don’t have to worry.” He pauses, then adds, “Did you need something?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Ike says. He nears Soren and sits on his bed, but his friend stays standing, looking down at him. “Do you hate Boyd?”

“I don’t,” Soren replies matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem surprised by the question, and the way he says the following words makes Ike’s brows furrow. “He was badmouthing me, I assume?”

Soren speaks as if he’s accepted that people will badmouth him, and Ike really doesn’t like that. He really wishes he could deny the fact that Boyd was doing exactly that, but that would be lying, so he has to swallow down his frustration once again.

“Most of it was unfair, I think,” Ike says. “But he said you flat-out ignore him when he talks to you. Is that true?”

“I reply to him sometimes,” Soren says, but he doesn’t deny anything. Ike sighs.

“Why? Has he done something to you?”

“No, I just… I don’t think he and I will ever become friends. Why bother wasting each other’s breath on something that will never go anywhere?”

“I don’t know, to be nice?” Ike suggests, grimacing a little. “You don’t have to be friends, but could you try to say something back to him when he speaks to you?”

“I… Is that what you want?”

“I mean, we’re all a family, right? Families get along.”

Soren pauses for a while, and it saddens Ike, it truly does. The pause is meaningful. The words after it are as well.

“...I wouldn’t know.”

“You would,” Ike says as firmly as he can. He isn’t feeling very confident about his words today, but he tries anyway. “You do. You’re as much of a part of my family as Mist and Father are.”

Soren’s eyes widen at that, and Ike is once again struck by how little his best friend thinks of himself. It’s always been obvious to him that Soren is a part of his family, so he had never even considered that Soren would feel otherwise. Ike always thinks he knows how far his friend’s insecurities go, and yet he is constantly surprised to find that they run deeper and deeper, hidden somewhere underneath that harsh and distant exterior.

Another reason as to why Soren would avoid Boyd pops up in Ike’s mind, and he purses his lips.

“Soren,” he starts, carefully picking his words before speaking **—** something that, admittedly, he doesn’t do often, “does me being friends with Boyd upset you?”

Soren winces, and even though that’s not a positive reaction by any means, the sincerity of his expression makes Ike feel a tad more relaxed. Being able to figure out how Soren is feeling always makes him feel at ease.  

“I can’t say I’m not a little jealous,” Soren says, speaking slowly, “but it doesn’t upset me. Wanting to keep you to myself just isn’t realistic, so don’t worry, I’m keeping those feelings in check.”

Ike frowns, unsure on how to feel about that. Keeping those feelings in check? What’s that supposed to mean? Soren’s expression has become guarded again.

“You know you’re special to me, right?” Ike asks. “You’ll always be my best friend.”

Soren’s mouth opens and closes before it settles into a soft smile. It’s somewhat bittersweet, but it’s pretty anyway. Any smile of Soren’s is always welcome.

“Thank you, Ike,” he says. “And really, don’t worry about me. The way in which you can make friends so easily is part of what I love about you. If you weren’t like that I wouldn’t be here, so don’t feel bad about spending time with Boyd instead of me.”

“Great,” Ike smiles, truly relieved. In spite of all, he really likes Boyd, but Soren’s feelings are important to him too. Knowing he can maintain his friendship with Boyd without hurting Soren makes him really happy. “Why do you say you wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t like I am, though? Would you stop being friends with me?”

“Never,” Soren says, his smile more a little wider now. “You could treat me like a piece of garbage and I’d still be by your side.”

“I will never treat you like garbage, come on,” Ike protests. He points an accusing finger at Soren. “And I don’t like that mindset! If someone treats you wrong you need to look out for yourself and leave.”

“Isn’t it fine?” Soren asks. “I only plan to be by _your_ side, and you just said you will never treat me badly.”

“That’s not the point,” Ike grumbles. “And hey, don’t think I don’t notice you dodging that question.”

“You’re getting more perceptive,” Soren compliments him, still avoiding the subject. Ike is still curious about what the other boy mean when he said he wouldn’t be here, but if Soren dodges a question twice, then he’s clearly uncomfortable with it. Ike won’t push.

“Anyway, what were you doing before I came in?” Ike asks to change the subject. “It looked like you were looking for something.”

“I was… packing,” Soren answers, averting his eyes.

“For?” Ike prompts him. He stretches his neck to look at the spot Soren was crouched over, where he can see a satchel and a few books stacked up right next to it.

“I’m leaving,” Soren murmurs. His voice is soft and meek, speaking as if he’s done something wrong. “Your father is sending me away to Melior.”

“What? Why?” He reaches out and grabs Soren’s wrist in what is perhaps a childish panic of his friend disappearing on him if Ike doesn’t hold onto him. “Don’t leave!”

Soren places his free hand over the one Ike has wrapped around his wrist and looks at him with patient eyes that poorly hide the turmoil behind them.

“It’s not permanent, Ike,” he explains. “I’ll be training with another mercenary company in order to hone my skills and come back stronger.”

“You don’t want this” Ike states. It’s not a question, and he doesn’t phrase it as such. It’s a fact. Soren’s lower lip quivers briefly before he bites it.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, hanging his head. “Any discomfort or loneliness I feel are a small price to pay for the good of the company.”

“They aren’t. If you don’t want to do this, then don’t. Stay.”

“You don’t understand, I have to help in any way I can. I have to earn my place.”

“You don’t have to earn anything, Soren. Even if you actually had to, you already do more than enough. You have every right to be here, you’re family, you—”

“Ike,” Soren intervenes, his tone quiet but firm, much firmer than he usually uses with Ike. The mage lifts his head slowly, and the expression he’s wearing makes Ike’s chest ache. He’s never seen his friend seem so distant, so lonely, and it hurts. “Let me do this. Please.”

“We’ll never kick you out,” Ike insists, a little desperate for the meaning of his words to come across for once. “You’ll always have a place with us.”

“I… I want to believe that too.” Soren sits down on the bed, facing Ike, his troubled expression melting into a smile that has no happiness to it. “That is why I must thank you. Repay you.”

“There’s nothing to—”

“You gave me my life. I only exist because I am with you.” Soren gently coaxes Ike’s hand away from his wrist, and then holds it with both hands. It’s been years since they’ve held hands like that. Ike wonders why, when it feels so safe and so right. “I will spend the rest of my days trying to give back everything that was given to me, and the only way I know how to do that is giving my all for you and the company.”

“Soren, I don’t know what you mean,” Ike replies, squeezing Soren’s hand, clinging to the only thing that seems to connect them. “Your life is your own, isn’t it? I haven’t given anything to you, really… I mean, I’ve given you food sometimes, but...”

To Ike’s surprise, Soren chuckles lightly. He never laughs any louder than that, but it is a clear, sincere sound that Ike has grown to love. It’s a sign of joy that he didn’t expect in a conversation like this.

“To give food is to give life, Ike,” Soren says, and although Ike isn't entirely convinced, he's too distracted by Soren’s change of mood to argue any further. “It's not about something material, though I really appreciate what you've given me in that aspect too.”

Soren reaches behind his head to touch his hair clasps, a gesture he does often. The familiarity of it makes Ike relax a little.

“I _really_ don't understand, then,” he grumbles. Soren doesn't reply, just looks at him fondly, and Ike squeezes his hand again. “You're always ahead of me in everything. I guess I'm a little scared of being left behind.”

“We both have very different skill sets,” Soren replies. “There are more useful resources for me in Melior, and I'm nary making any progress here. But you keep growing every day, and as long as you're with your father that will continue without fail.”

“You're right,” Ike sighs. He shifts his hand so he can intertwine his fingers with Soren’s. “Let's grow stronger together. Even if we’re apart.”

“I'll be back before you notice,” Soren assures, tightening his hold on Ike’s hand.

“You better,” Ike says, looking at his best friend in the eyes. “I'll miss you.”

“So will I,” Soren replies, and Ike looks at him closely, committing his face to memory, making sure that whenever he closes his eyes he’ll be able to recall the softness of his features, the warmth of his eyes, and the beauty of his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter even not a lot happened in it! next chapter will be more emotionally charged, so I hope I can get to writing it quicker. on the meantime, you can tell me your thoughts on the comments or find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/deformedcities/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life without Ike is not easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: death, blood, violence (not very explicit, but still there, so tread with caution! it's only there on the first scene)
> 
> this took long as always, and it's looking like the next few months will be very busy so please bear with me. the reception this fic has gotten has made me really happy, so thank you all again for keeping up with it in all of its self-indulgence, for all the nice comments you leave and for 200+ kudos ❤️

Life without Ike is not easy.

Soren had deemed himself prepared for a separation, he had believed that even if he dreaded parting from Ike he could handle the loneliness. And yet, during his first night in Melior, he falls asleep curled into a ball, cradling his hair clasps close to his chest, to his heart. It is a futile gesture; even if they carry memories of Ike, they are cold and Ike is warm. They make him feel even more lonely, so the next night he sets them on his nightstand and he falls into a restless sleep.

The people aren’t bad, but they are somewhat indistinct. Maybe Soren is too used to the colorful personalities of the Greil Mercenaries, because even if he learns everyone’s faces and names, it feels like the mercenaries of Melior sort of... blur together. The only person who truly sticks out is a myrmidon who is as young as him and pesters him—and everyone else—into sparring with her at every given moment. She’s loud and reminds him a little too much of home, so he ignores her, which he can allow himself to do because she’s still too young and weak to go on jobs.

His job is easy and almost mindless, at first. The senior staff officer of the company has gotten old and sick, but she is still able to help Soren through his training and watch over him as he learns how to take the reins. The first few months are full of accounting and management and looking at numbers, so Soren spends his days hunched over a desk, quill in hand. The job isn’t very thrilling, but it’s a necessary step of his formation, and it gives him two very important things: an excuse to wander around the library for extended periods of time, and free time to study alternative disciplines of magic.

Soren doesn’t take long to read through every single book on staves that the library has. For a while, he’s had the theory that the staff the man who erased Ike and Mist’s memories used was a rare one that could, perhaps, lock a person’s memories away. The only staves he’s ever seen at use are heal and sleep ones, but he knows there are many that inflict different effects, and if a staff can make a person temporarily unable to speak, there is no reason for him to believe that a staff that can temporarily erase memories does not exist. The key word, however, is temporarily. Some books have spoken about staves having an effect for weeks on end, but never months, let alone years. It’s been about five years since the day Elena died, and there is just no way a spell from a simple staff would last that long, no matter how rare said staff is. Maybe Soren would be able to confirm or refute this hypothesis if he were to try using a restore staff on Ike, but he never learnt how to use staves and he doesn’t want to risk Ike’s mental stability for something as flimsy as a refutable hypothesis.

Trying to not get discouraged, Soren takes his time with his research. There is no urgent need to find out about the nature of Ike’s condition and what was done to him on that dreadful day, Soren has long since come to terms that it doesn’t endanger Ike in any way. Even so, it concerns Ike, and Soren doesn’t want to be left in the dark when it comes to anything that concerns the only person that matters in his world. Greil has expressed his worries about the matter too, so Soren keeps poking around the library, looking for anything that might help him reach a conclusion.

He reaches none. As a country, Crimea isn’t particularly renowned for its magic studies, and Soren would probably have much better luck researching in Begnion, a country he doubts he’ll ever set a foot in. For the time being, all he can assume is that the man who erased Ike’s memories is an extremely powerful mage, something that he had already noticed all those years back.

The rest of his research isn’t completely fruitless, though, for Soren is finally able to read and fully understand what a spirit charmer is. The old sage that taught him magic had called him a spirit charmer a few times, but he had never explained what the term truly meant. Without the means or the will to ask, Soren had formed a basic assumption that he wasn’t able to corroborate until now. As he reads extended descriptions on the nature of spirit charmers, Soren can’t help but feel that, despite how much his appearance and aptitude for magic apply to the definition of a spirit charmer, he isn’t one at all. Although spirit charmers can be that way since infanthood, Soren knows his body, and he knows his magic. He borrows essence from the spirits like any other mage does, but the quiet thrum in his veins as he does so is foreign, the tingling sensation of his skin when he charges and releases magic is something that he channels, not embodies. He would know if he had any spirits inhabiting his body, so his aptitude for magic comes from something else which, in turn, means that the mark on his forehead comes from something else as well.

What that something is, Soren isn’t sure he wants to find out. Anything that sets him apart from Ike is something he dreads, so he concludes his research then, and pours himself into his work instead.

His duties gradually increase, and Soren finds himself having to balance administrative work and tactics training, which proves exhausting and gratifying at the same time. When he is first called into the battlefield to stand on the rearguard and see his strategies in real time, he feels almost elated, relishing on the progress he has made to reach that point. Things really change when he can see the fighting that closely and, when a job is finished and he goes to bed at night, he can’t help but letting his mind wander to the Greil Mercenaries, and how he could adapt the strategies he’s learning how to formulate to their skillsets. He imagines a grown up Ike, brilliant and strong as he follows Soren’s strategies and slashes through countless enemies with ease. He imagines this Ike doing something unpredictable, coming up with a rash but very Ike-like approach to solve a problem in the battlefield, thus complementing the tactics Soren created with his own special touch. Soren will never admit that that image makes him hug a pillow to his chest and bury his face in it to muffle a positively giddy noise, because Soren is here to be professional. Still, the thought of how good of a team Ike and him will be in the future never abandons him.

Time passes mostly without incident. Soren is lonely, but this mercenary company doesn’t have its own breed of Shinon, so his time there is bearable and he can work with the members just fine. Some of them try to make friends with him, but Soren politely pushes them away, and he is able to cement a reputation of a cold but hard-working boy. It’s not far from the truth, so Soren accepts it. He does his job to the best of his ability until, one day, he can’t anymore.

That day, Soren finds himself in the midst of a battlefield, his eyes darting from one side to the other as he tries to keep up with the battle waging in front of him. They have been at it for a while now. One more brigand has fallen, leaving only six left.

Soren miscalculated. He had positioned everyone on the field with the possibilities of injuries in mind; that's how he has worked for these past few months. He knows that he cannot possibly predict everything that happens in the battlefield, he has had his expectations of an upcoming job thwarted enough times to know that chance takes a big part in any strategy. Their archer can't take any heavy hits or counter any enemies that are too close to her, so she has to be in a place where the terrain works in her advantage. One of their fighters is resilient and can take more than a few injuries and still keep fighting, but he isn't very good at dodging attacks, so he needs to be placed in an open space where he can retreat to heal his wounds without compromising the formation. The cavaliers should move back and forth between the frontlines and the back, sweeping through some of the brigands to avoid them ganging up on the infantry units, but leaving some for them to get their own experience. The field is a very open space, so the priest will not advance on his own, which forces the mercenaries placed farther in to have to retreat if they are to be healed. This simple, clear-cut strategy is what Soren has been working with and all that he has needed so far. In the end, Greil was right: the jobs have all been simple, and although the commander has put Soren out there in the field, he has learnt more from his own mistakes than from the challenge the jobs have brought upon him.

So really, in the end it was all a matter of miscalculation. He had been prepared for injuries, but had not thought of the possibility of a chain reaction: that one of their men would have an enemy’s axe hacking through his legs, cutting through skin and tissue and grazing bone, depriving him of the means to retreat and have his wounds attended to; that the priest Soren was standing next to—and supposed to protect—would be as good natured and daft as every priest out there seems to be and, ignoring any kind of self-preservation instinct, would charge forward to heal their fallen ally; that the other mercenaries would be too far ahead to notice, or to have the time to make it back.

Soren’s first instinct is to yell at the priest to get back, to call him a dunce for running up defenseless like that, but he’s surprisingly quick on his feet—or maybe Soren’s too used to Rhys panting and huffing after going up a single flight of stairs—and the brigand is already raising his axe with a grin on his face.

There’s really no other thing for Soren to do but sprint forward to get in range and start an incantation he knows by heart before he can even open his tome. A flurry of winds gathers in front of him, and with a quick movement of his hand they fly forward towards the brigand, leaving sharp cuts on his skin that make him grunt and stumble. A simple-minded fellow, this brigand, because he ignores the mercenaries he was just attacking in order to charge at Soren, his features contorted in rage. Soren’s hands tremble as he readies another attack. The massive figure getting closer and closer is more than a little intimidating, but he plants his feet and stands steady, knowing that he can get the spell ready on time, knowing that if he aims properly it’ll be enough to blow his enemy back, to give him more time to attack again, to allow him to think of another course of action, to…

Soren casts the spell when the brigand is barely a step away and already swinging his axe at him. The boy realizes a little too late that this is his first time engaging in close combat, and that he doesn’t know where to aim. His magic slashes through the man’s body again, leaving another trail of cuts, one of them landing on a bulging vein in the man’s throat.

Soren’s eyes widen, thoughts like _wait_ or _I didn’t mean—_ disappearing as blood stains his face, his robes, _everywhere_ , and his mind goes blank.  

Due to his young age and his near-permanent position on the rearguard, Soren has gotten away with not engaging with enemies a lot. He's only wounded people, he's never ended a life, he's never… The man falls to the ground, unconscious—no, _dead_ —and Soren’s knees quake, his legs can't hold him up, he's falling on his backside but he's still too near, blood is pooling on the ground and reaching his feet, painting even more of his skin red, and _oh Goddess, I was only going to wound him, how did he die, I only miscalculated, it was a faulty aim, how…?_

_How can human life be this fragile?_

_Could I die this easily too? Could Ike?_

There are voices speaking. Soren hears his name. He looks up to see the mercenaries regrouping around him like the job is over. Is the job over? How much time has passed? Soren feels very cold.

“Well done, Soren,” someone says. Who is it? Soren’s vision is blurry.

Well done? What is he being congratulated for when his strategy was faulty? For standing his ground? For killing a man?

“You saved me,” he hears someone say— ah, the priest. “Thank you.”

That's right, he saved a life, he traded the brigand’s life for the priest’s safety, and maybe his own too. The brigand was a killer himself, this group in particular raided merchant caravans and killed the people they robbed more often than not. Soren has taken a life in self defense, and it was a life that took others, the exact kind of life that would trample over Soren’s without hesitation. He's done nothing particularly… wrong, not really. He's done something natural for his line of work, something he'll be doing in the future, something he's actively training for.

And yet… why does he feel like he’s done something terrible and irreversible? Like he’s suddenly not the same person he was a few hours ago?

Why does he feel like he won't be able to look at Ike in the eyes anymore?

Soren buries his face in his hands and curls over himself, trembling. He wants to cry but he’s not crying, he wants to throw up but he’s holding himself together. But he can’t stop shaking, and when he feels a hand on his shoulder he flinches away.

His name is called again, and the mercenaries keep expressing their concern, but Soren doesn’t want to hear any of this. He feels lost, like he’s still wandering around in a Gallian forest and he hasn’t met the light of his life yet. He can’t think straight, he can’t be here anymore, he needs to leave, he needs…

“Ike,” he mumbles into his hands, his voice breaking. “I need Ike.”

 

* * *

 

 

They’re all eating in the mess hall when Soren comes back. Ike has been jittery all day, his nerves bubbling in anticipation ever since they got the letter from Melior. It’s been almost a year since he’s seen his best friend, almost a year since he even _heard_ from him aside from the bimonthly reports Soren wrote to Greil, which Ike wasn’t even allowed to read. He’s a little worried because Soren’s return has been really sudden and the letter they received wasn’t even written by him, but by the commander of the company he was training under. Something has probably happened, but Greil has assured him that Soren is safe, and Ike is just excited to see his friend again. He wants to ask him how these months have been for him, and maybe later he wants to show off his improved skills so Soren will look at him with that proud little grin he only wears for Ike and maybe praise him too.

Being so lost in his own thoughts and focused on shovelling food into his mouth, he doesn’t even notice someone has entered the mess hall at first. All he sees is his father and Titania standing up and leaving the table, and it’s only when he directs his gaze to the doorway that he sees Greil whisk away a familiar figure. Ike only gets to see dark hair and and small shoulders, but he immediately stands up to follow.

“Soren?” he calls, but he’s stopped by Titania, who blocks the doorway with her taller frame.

“Later, Ike,” she says sternly.

Ike hears a door opening and closing and he scowls at his feet. His best friend has just come back after so long, and he doesn’t even get to greet him? This is unfair.

“Why? I want to see him.”

“You will in a bit, but we have to talk to him first,” Titania replies. “Go back to the others and finish eating.”

Ike wants to argue, but he knows it won’t get him anywhere when Titania is looking at him with such a stern expression. He reluctantly gives up, but still stands where he is and looks up at Titania.

“Soren hasn’t eaten yet, right?” he asks. “I’ll save some food for him.”

Titania’s serious expression softens, and she smiles as she lightly ruffles Ike’s hair.

“Do that, he’ll be happy,” she says. “I’ll tell him to go to you when we’re done.”

“Thanks,” Ike replies. He watches Titania turn on her heel and enter the room where Greil has taken Soren, and only when the door has closed behind her, he turns around and goes back to the mess hall.

The rest of the mercenaries are all staring at him, some seeming confused, others worried, Shinon amused.

“Are you upset that the other brat doesn’t want to see you, whelp?” the archer says, his words lightly slurring like he’s already drunk at noon—which he probably is. “You think he’s gotten tired of sucking up to you while he was away?”

“Shut up,” Ike grumbles as he sits down on his seat. He picks up his fork and uses it to part the remaining food on his plate into two portions, reserving the bigger one for Soren.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Shinon scoffs, leaning back on his chair.

“Don’t listen to Shinon, you know he’s dumb,” Mist whispers to him as she pushes some of her food into Soren’s ration of Ike’s plate. It’s not the first time that Ike parts his food like that to give some to his friend, so he’s not surprised that Mist has clued in. “How’s Soren?”

Ike shrugs, absently parting the food more neatly than necessary. He doesn’t care what Shinon says, really, he knows better than to believe everything he spouts. If Soren has to speak with Greil and Titania before joining them again then that just means that something bad has indeed happened, not that Soren doesn’t want to see him. Ike isn’t worried about Soren not liking him anymore, he’s just worried about Soren.

“Why did he come back so suddenly?” Boyd asks. “Is his training finished?”

“Maybe it is,” Rhys replies. “There was never a specified time for him to come back.”

“You think he’s in trouble?”

“Why would he be in trouble?”

“Well, we’ll see when he comes out,” Oscar intervenes. “For now let’s finish eating, and then we’ll welcome him back.”

Shinon scoffs again and downs whatever alcoholic substance he has in his cup, but he goes by mostly ignored, and the mercenaries fall back into the conversations they were having before their meal was interrupted.

Ike stays quiet, sneaking quick glances at the doorway as he eats, but nothing happens. None of the absent mercenaries come back, and as the minutes pass, the mess hall starts to become empty. Everyone finishes eating, Ike included, and they leave one by one. Mist squeezes Ike’s shoulder as she leaves the mess hall with Rolf, and Ike stays. He looks at the cold food he’s reserved for Soren, and tries to be patient. He’s still not very good at the whole patience thing, but he tries. For Soren, he always tries.

Ike drops his face to the table and sighs through his nose. Maybe only a few minutes go by, but it feels like hours before he hears a door being opened and faint voices in the distance. He turns his head, keeping his cheek pressed to rough wood as he fixes his gaze on the doorway. When a small figure walks through it, Ike smiles.

“Hey,” he says, his voice coming out a little strained.

Soren is looking down, but Ike can see the ghost of a smile on his friend’s face when he approaches and sits down next to him.

“Hello,” Soren greets. He stays still and tense, avoiding Ike’s gaze and letting his hair hide his face.

Ike frowns and sits up slowly, closely observing the tension of Soren’s shoulders. He wants to ask what’s wrong, but he decides that if he’s already waited this long he doesn’t have to cut straight to the point. He can ease Soren into a more comfortable conversation—or, at least, he can try.

“Welcome home,” he says. “I’ve really missed you.”

“ _Ike_ ,” Soren croaks out, his voice sounding like he’s close to tears.

Ike’s eyes widen as he watches Soren turning slowly until he’s facing Ike, his head down and back hunched. The mage leans forward until his forehead rests against Ike’s shoulder, and while they haven’t been very physically affectionate with each other since they started growing into teenagers, Ike doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Soren’s shoulders, pulling him into a loose hug.

Alright, so much for easing Soren into the conversation. No need to beat around the bush then.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. Soren shakes his head. Ike tightens his embrace. “Please talk to me.”

“No, I—”

“Soren, come on.”

“I killed a man,” Soren blurts out, and Ike tenses.

Soren has always been like that, bottling up his feelings and letting them build up little by little until someone prods and they burst out like a dam has been broken. Having a heart-to-heart with Soren sometimes feels like you’re being slapped in the face, but the initial shock dissipates quickly when Ike feels his friend shake in his arms.

“Was it an innocent?” he asks, and Soren shakes his head.

“A brigand.”

“Did you… mean to?”

“N-no, I… It was self-defense.”

“Then you didn't do anything wrong,” Ike states firmly. “We mercenaries… we’ll all have to kill sooner or later.”

“Titania said it was too soon, that I was too young to experience this burden,” Soren breathes, pressing closer to Ike. “But Commander Greil said that I was old enough. That he wouldn't have sent me away if I wasn't.”

“And you?” Ike asks. “What do you think?”

“I… I think that I need to get used to it. As a tactician, I'll have more blood on my hands than anyone else. I already do. My strategies were what got our enemies killed.”

“The commander who gives out the orders has more blood on his hands than the tactician does, I think,” Ike says. “I’ll be the commander, one day. And then… then we will share the burden.”

Soren lets out a shuddering breath, and then a bitter chuckle. It's a coarse sound. Ike can’t tell if Soren’s voice has gotten lower or if it’s his friend’s emotions causing the change.

“I feel _sick_ , Ike,” the mage mutters. “I know I did nothing wrong but every time I close my eyes, I see the blood. I… I feel _disgusting_.”

“Soren…”

Finally, Soren raises his head and lets Ike see his face. Ike’s breath hitches, because even if his eyes aren't teary, his face holds so much raw distress that it's almost overwhelming to watch.

“If I never want you to feel like this,” Soren says slowly. “If I never want you to bear this burden… is that selfish of me?”

Ike loosens the hug and raises a hand to tuck some of Soren’s hair behind his ear. His bangs have gotten longer and they cover his face a little messily, but putting that aside, he hasn’t changed one bit. His features are exactly the same as they were when he left almost a year ago, but he doesn’t _feel_ the same. Maybe it is because Ike has done his fair share of growing in that period of time, but Soren seems smaller than before. Not weaker or more fragile by any means, Soren has always had a certain fire in his eyes, a set of his jaw, a rigidness of his posture that have made him seem stronger than a kid his age and size should be, but… maybe Ike feels a little stronger now, a little bigger and better, a little more capable of standing by the side of the people who are actually out there fighting. He’s grown taller and stronger, after all, and his training with Greil has been going really well lately. Maybe he’s finally strong enough to support Soren as well as Soren supports him.

Ike is more sure of himself than he used to be, so he smiles.

“I know you just want to look after me,” he starts, lowering the hand that was still resting on Soren’s hair to put it on his shoulder, “but I really want to be a proper mercenary. I want to inherit this company, and that means I’ll have to go through that sooner or later.”

“Yes, of course,” Soren says, raising a hand to touch the spot behind his ear where Ike’s fingers brushed. He looks a little shy. It’s quite endearing. “And I’ll be there to support you when that happens.”

“I’d like that.” Ike withdraws his hand, giving Soren a little room to breathe. “Maybe things would have been different if I was there with you, you know? Everything must be harder when you’re alone.”

“I mean, I wasn’t truly alone…”

“Okay, name someone you befriended.” Soren huffs and rolls his eyes, and Ike chuckles. “See? I’m trying really hard to catch up to you, okay? So by the time you have to get used to this stuff, I’ll be there with you.”

Soren presses his lips into a thin line, and he looks away. He brings his hands together, intertwining his own fingers and squeezing.

“Ike, I…” He takes a deep breath. “I really do appreciate the sentiment, but I must keep going.”

Ike could say many things. He could tell Soren how his stomach tightens painfully whenever he thinks of how he’s still in training despite having grown so much, or how Soren is doing all these amazing things and Boyd might start properly working on jobs soon and Ike, even though he’s their same age, even though his improvement is tangible, is still ‘not fit for battle’. He could say how he’s more confident in his skills, but also more scared that he’ll be left behind and all of his childhood dreams of being a strong mercenary that protects his friends and family will be left in the dust. He could say many things, but there is something in Soren’s body language and the way he words his phrases when talking about his own training. There’s something to the way Soren has been working and training almost obsessively the past couple of years that has Ike shutting up about his feelings, and asking about what truly matters at the moment.

“Why does it always seem like you’re in a rush?” he asks.

“Aren’t you as well?” Soren shoots back.

Ike stiffens and scowls at his friend.

“I have people to catch up to, of course I’m in a rush.”

“I have someone I want to protect, of course _I’m_ in a rush.”

Ike and Soren stare at each other for a few seconds, their expressions tight and serious, until Ike relents and groans. He drops his head on the table, his cheek pressed to the wood once again so he can look at Soren in clear exasperation.

“Can’t we just protect each other?” he asks.

“We can, but don’t expect me to slow down just because you want me to,” Soren remarks. Then, more softly, he adds: “The duties of a commander are heavy, and the person teaching you how to fight is more exceptional than I’ll ever be. Your father is the only person you have to catch up to, and he has so many years on you.”

“I don’t know, Soren,” he says. “Father isn’t even teaching me any of those commander duties yet…”

“When you become the commander of this company, you will see that you shine brighter than any of us,” Soren states with so much conviction that Ike is momentarily rendered speechless. He manages a sheepish smile when he recovers.

“I shine?”

“Yes. The brightest.”

“You know, for someone so pragmatic, you sure say cheesy things sometimes,” Ike teases, his smile widening when Soren’s lips quirk up as well.

“I do not,” the mage huffs. “I am merely stating the truth.”

“Are you really?”

“You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to,” Soren simply replies.

Ike chuckles. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s nice,” he says. And then, because it’s true and he wants Soren to hear it, he repeats: “I’ve really missed you.”

“So have I,” Soren replies without hesitation. “You’ve changed a little.”

“Really?”

“You’re taller.” Soren reaches out with his hand but stops it midway, leaving it hanging so close to Ike’s face that he can feel the cool temperature radiating from Soren’s palm tickling his cheek. As if thinking better about it, Soren retracts his hand and places it on his lap. “You’re starting to look like your father.”

Ike raises his hand to touch his own cheek, wondering why he feels a pang of disappointment at having to feel his calloused fingers there instead of Soren’s softer ones.

“Am I?” He asks. It’s true he’s gotten taller, but his face is still much too boyish for him to see any resemblance with Greil’s features.

“Yes. That perpetual frown you’re wearing certainly adds to the effect.”

Frown? Ike’s frowning? He moves his hand to place his fingers in between his brows, which they furrow even more when he feels the frown. He hadn’t even realized he was sporting one, he thought this was just his face. Is this why Mist has been telling him to lighten up so much lately?

“Ike, it’s fine,” Soren says. “You look well. I don’t know how I like that you’re starting to tower over me, though.”

“Why?” Ike asks, surprised enough to forget about the frown. He’s come to expect this kind of childish competition over their height from Boyd, but he never would have expected it from Soren. “I didn’t peg you as someone who cared about these things.”

“I usually don’t,, but… Do you remember when I used to be taller than you?”

“What? You used to be taller?” Ike stops to think about it, but he can recall that at all.

“Yes, when we were very little,” Soren says. His voice sounds a little strained again, but Ike really can’t tell why. “Nevermind that, though. How have you been?”

Ike huffs, a little frustrated at the way in which Soren keeps redirecting the subject away from himself.

“Nevermind _me_ ,” he says, “what about you? What did Father tell you?”

“I, well… my training isn’t finished yet, so I might be going back to Melior in the future,” Soren explains. “For the time being, I will stay here and work with the skills I have gained. Commander Greil wants to see my progress, so my stay is indefinite.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’re staying,” Ike says sincerely. He pats Soren’s shoulder again. “And hey, don’t worry about that brigand. I know you’re a good person.”

“I don’t know, Ike…”

“Well, I do.” His eyes flicker down to his plate, and he pushes is towards Soren. “Anyway, I saved you some food.”

Soren smiles lightly, a little strained, but he takes the fork Ike gives to him.

“I’m not hungry… but thank you,” he says. He takes a bite anyway, and Ike smiles too.

“You can just eat a little bit. I’ll eat whatever’s left.”

“Thank you,” Soren repeats. He takes another bite, swallows, and points his fork at Ike. “Stop staring at me and tell me how you’ve been.”

Ike’s grin widens, he sits back, and starts telling his best friend every little thing he missed while he was away.

 

* * *

 

 

Mist wanders through the sitting room, her eyes darting around as she absentmindedly snips the air with her scissors. She’s been looking for the only hand mirror they own for a while now, and she’s starting to lose her patience. Only her and Gatrie use that mirror, and Gatrie has been out on a job for a couple of days, so she has no idea how it managed to get misplaced. She huffs and leaves the room, determined to find someone to rope into helping her look for it.

The fort is pretty empty with most of the adults away on the job, so she decides to start looking around the grounds instead, knowing she’ll find at least a couple of the boys training outside. She’s only taken a couple of steps out of the building when something catches her eye, and she turns her head to see dark hair and black robes peeking out from the corner of another building. Mist smiles, feeling lucky. No one is better at finding stuff than Soren is, this will save her a lot of time.

Plus, she thinks as she quietly approaches the mage, she hasn’t been able to have a proper talk with Soren since he got back. It feels like the boy has immersed himself in work even more obsessively than he used to before leaving, and Mist just hasn’t found an opportunity to sit down with him and ask him how things have gone in Melior.

Soren is always cold and grumpy and a little hard to talk to, but he isn’t mean, and Mist likes being around him. Titania had once told her that even if Soren could be difficult at times, he was worth the patience, and Mist wholeheartedly agrees. She has been seeing how Soren acts around Ike as long as she remembers, so she would have to be blind to not realize how sweet the mage can truly be.

Maybe he’s not sweet with Mist yet, but the girl thinks that he does have a bit of soft spot for her. Compared to the other mercenaries—and if you don’t count Ike or Greil—, he’s a little warmer and more patient whenever he’s with Mist. Her theory is that he feels at least a bit comfortable around her, and that hasn’t always been that way, so she treasures the progress she has made and hopes for even more progress in the future. And for that further progress to happen, she has to seize every opportunity she can. She rounds the corner, about to call his name, but she stops dead in her tracks, her lips stilling before she can form the word.

Soren is sitting on the ground, curled into himself with his knees drawn up to his chest. One hand is buried in his own hair, keeping it away from his face, and the other is holding up the mirror Mist had been looking for. Well, that certainly makes things even easier for her, but the way he’s basically glowering at his own reflection, his eyes narrowed with something that seems like anger or… disgust, is disconcerting. Soren’s expressions are always careful and moderated, and Mist has never seen him look at anyone this intensely, not even at Shinon when the archer starts mocking Ike.

There is hatred in his eyes as he examines himself in the mirror, and Mist suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable with that.

“Soren!” she calls, her voice louder than she intended.

Soren flinches and knocks the back of his head against the wall, and Mist winces at that. She watches the boy slowly lowering the mirror and shifting to look at her. The unnatural way in which he tries to school his features into a neutral expression, lips pressed into a thin line, makes Mist’s heart break a little.

“What?” he asks curtly, his tone a little more brusque than she’s used to.

“Um,” Mist says, really taken aback, “I was going to cut my hair, so… the mirror? Ah.”

Soren sits up abruptly and practically shoves the item into her arms. She struggles to hold it with only one hand, the other one being occupied with her scissors, and Soren has to reach out for the mirror again to steady it in her grasp before it can fall to the ground.

“Sorry,” he says, and Mist hates that she doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. She lets go of the mirror so he’s forced to take it back himself, and she looks up at him with a smile that probably doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s never been any good at pretending to feel a way she doesn’t feel.

“Actually, I need someone to hold it up for me while I cut,” she says. “You’re free, right?”

“...Yes.”

Mist nods and steps around him, sitting on the ground next to the spot he had been at. She readjusts the cloth she tied around her neck to catch all the stray hairs she cut, and stares up at Soren.

“Come on!” she urges, fighting the urge to smile when Soren eyes her warily, like he thinks she’s doing something stupid but he doesn’t want to be mean to her.

“Isn’t there a better place to do this?” he asks, because there is, because she doesn’t really like sitting on the ground for long periods of time and dirtying her skirt, because Soren is sort of always right.

But that’s the point, to get him to focus on Mist doing a stupid, inconsequential thing—because details like this bother Soren, she knows—instead of whatever was getting him to have such a dark expression on his face.

“There’s a lot of light here,” she says as a poor excuse, which Soren probably doesn’t buy but still decides to accept, kneeling down in front of her and holding up the mirror so she can clearly see her own reflection. “Thanks, Soren!”

He nods, and that’s that. Mist gets to work, sticking her face close to the mirror to make sure she’s cutting her hair as evenly as possible. She usually gets Oscar or Titania to do this for her, but she’s been trying to learn to be more independent with this sort of matters, so she’s determined to do it on her own. Most of the mercenaries tend to their own needs themselves, and she doesn’t want to avoid pulling her own weight just because she’s still a child or the boss’s daughter. She darts her eyes away from her reflection momentarily to look at Soren.

Soren doesn’t let anyone do anything for him, or even see him tending to himself at all. He wakes up earlier than anyone else, bathes by himself, eats very little and mostly alone—only mostly, because Greil made a rule that all the mercenaries eat together for at least lunch and dinner—, picks his clothes by himself, and, of course, takes care of things like cutting his own hair by himself. Lately Mist has been wondering if he’s made a stylistic choice in his haircut, because the bangs on the right side of his face are noticeably longer than the ones on the left side, but as she looks at him she feels that it’s more likely a mistake—not that she sees Soren make many of those. It almost looks like he cut his hair without looking.

“You were looking at yourself like you’d never seen your reflection,” she blurts out without thinking. Soren visibly tenses and Mist almost regrets broaching the subject, but she doesn’t take it back.

“I haven’t in a while,” Soren replies.

“Why? Don’t you like how you look?”

Soren is pretty after all. He looks different than everyone else, which is cool, and his eyes are very beautiful. Mist has always thought that Soren having good looks is a fact acknowledged by everyone.

Apparently not, though, because Soren doesn’t even reply, and that probably means that he does, in fact, dislike how he looks. He probably dislikes it enough to avoid looking at himself in a mirror as much as he can. That doesn’t sit well with Mist at all, but she doesn’t know what to do about it.

“You’ve gotten bigger,” Soren says in what seems like an abrupt change of subject.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks.

“Do I look my age?”

Mist blinks at him, really confused by the flow of this conversation. “Yeah?”

Soren averts his eyes, looking at the back of the the mirror he’s still holding. It’s true that Soren still has a bit of a baby face, but so does Ike, so Mist doesn’t see where he’s coming from with that question. Maybe he hasn’t really… grown in a while, staying a certain height while the other boys his age shoot up, but Mist still has to crane her head upwards to look at him. Nothing seems off, really, besides Soren’s troubled expression.

“Soren, did something happen while you were away?”

“Nothing that won’t happen again.”

Mist contemplates that answer, still observing Soren closely. Somehow he looks a little more relaxed saying that, as if it’s a topic completely unrelated to the conversation. Mist doesn’t feel any better about that, because considering the job he’s been doing while he was away, she can kind of guess what he means with those words. Titania didn’t give Mist any details, but she did brief her in on the reason why Soren came back. She gently coaxes Soren to lower the mirror, since she’s not paying attention to her haircut anymore, and fixes him with a serious stare.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, waiting for Soren to nod before she continues. “Sometimes, I don’t know if I want to be a mercenary.”

Soren, as good of a listener as he usually is, prompts her further. “How so?”

“I really love this company and I really want to be useful here, but I just… I really don’t want to hurt people. No matter what they’ve done, I don’t want to cause anyone pain.” Mist pauses briefly, and when Soren doesn’t say anything, she asks: “Don’t you feel the same, too?”

Soren and Mist stare at each other for a few seconds, the silence tense, until Soren closes his eyes and breathes in.

“I do not,” he says, but he’s taken too long to say it. Mist doesn’t believe it, _can’t_ believe it.

Mist doesn’t know where Soren comes from, or what his life was like before he joined their family. She doesn’t think anyone knows, not even Ike, but Greil said something once, something that stuck with her. She doesn’t remember the context, or what the conversation went like, but she remembers Greil saying that Soren had suffered a lot before meeting them. Surely, someone who had suffered a lot wouldn’t want to cause anyone else suffering. Surely, someone who had been through many hardships wouldn’t want to be out there, fighting people.  

Mist wants to confront him about this topic, about how he might be forcing himself to do things he doesn’t want to do, but she stays silent. If Soren said he didn’t feel the same as her, he wouldn’t like it if Mist insisted. All she wanted was for this to be a friendly conversation.

“Can you help me touch up the back?” Mist says, running her fingers through the ends of the hair at her nape. “They’re probably uneven.”

Wordlessly, Soren takes the scissors from her hands and scoots to sit behind her. Mist feels a little sad about how their exchange has gone, but she forces herself not to dwell on it. As she feels the careful, gentle and almost perfectionist manner in which Soren grasps at the strands of her hair and snips them, she is assured that this family member of hers is definitely worth the patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this concludes the pre-path of radiance part of this fic. next chapter, It Begins, I'm excited :3c
> 
> ps in case you're interested in a couple of the choices I made regarding soren this chapter:  
> -I know soren kills pretty ruthlessly in canon but he has come close to death so many times at such an early age that I just don't think he could think nothing of the lives he takes when he starts taking them. he's described as emotional and empathetic by other characters so I really don't think he wouldn't bat an eye the first time he kills someone, that's why I went on this tangent. I know this is fire emblem and this kind of thing is rarely addressed in the games (bless mist and her support with rolf, it's so good) but sue me, this is my fic and in my fic soren doesn't get used to killing right away because he is a CHILD with EMOTIONS  
> -I keep making characters mention how soren looks very different to them but I admit that is entirely subjective. I think he has a very unique look, especially among the mercenaries, and until they meet any goldoan I think soren's looks, his bright red eyes and his everything, would really stick out. that's just me though


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet, the pride he feels is strong and undeniable. He’s proud of his father, he’s proud of Titania, of Soren and every other mercenary in the company and the work they all do. He’s proud of himself for becoming strong enough to be a part of that. No guilt for the lives he has taken will take that away from him, he is certain of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see, you all! this chapter was supposed to go up much sooner but, as it turns out, being on your last year of university and having to write a thesis sort of saps your free time away and any energy you had to write dissipates. and then I graduated, but got hit with an awful writer's block that set me back an additional month... still, I made it :')
> 
> from this chapter onwards I will be following the script of the games (thank you serenesforest.net for providing it all), and while I'll be skipping a lot of dialogue and changing many of it to fit the AU and not bore you all out of your minds, if some dialogue sounds familiar it's because... well, I took it straight from the game. credit for that to intsys obviously, etc etc, thank you for your patience and please enjoy!!

Ike’s first job as a mercenary goes smoothly. 

He had been complaining about his trainee status for so long that, when he complained about it for the umpteenth time and his father agreed to let him start working as a fully fledged mercenary, he almost didn’t believe it. He had thought he would get a ‘not yet’, a ‘maybe next time’, but no. Finally, finally, after waiting for what feels like his whole life, he’s ready to go on the field. 

It’s a little overwhelming when he thinks about it, laying awake at night, the covers of his bed thrown askew from all the tossing and turning he’s doing. He thinks he’s ready for it. Hell, he’s been thinking he’s ready for it for a long, long time. But he still feels a lot of pressure, being the son of the commander places a lot of expectations on him and if he fails to meet those expectations he could be forced to go back to training. Still, he’s excited, and knowing that other mercenaries will be helping him along puts him at ease. 

Ike sleeps very little, but he still wakes up feeling energized. He meets his father at the briefing room and feels oddly calm as the job information is relayed to him. It’s an easy job and he knows it, but he doesn’t mind. First jobs are supposed to be easy; Soren once told him that the first job he went on was so easy he almost felt bad for the bandits they were hired to beat, so Ike expected things to be simple, and he is grateful for it. Titania could probably take the entire job just by herself, but she guides Ike along, and Oscar and Boyd get to help out as well.

The job truly does go smoothly, Ike has no trouble adapting his skills to the battlefield, and he finds he works with his fellow mercenaries very well. He cuts through his enemies easily, and even has the luxury to avoid killing them. 

Sadly, that luxury isn’t extended to the day where Mist and Rolf get kidnapped. Disobeying orders on his second day as a mercenary isn’t the wisest thing to do, but Ike does so anyway because needs to get to Mist as soon as possible, and staying put like Titania told them to isn't an option. There is a real, tangible danger to a member of his family, and that makes him fight with an urgency that wasn’t there on his previous missions. Ike slashes a bandit’s neck, watches the blood pour and the man die in what seems like an instant, and he feels the burden of being a killer as soon as the bandit’s body hits the floor. That one conversation with Soren had always weighed heavily on his mind, and now he thinks he finally understands why his friend didn’t wish him to carry that burden. 

Ike is young, but he feels a quick flash of sadness at the thought that Soren had to experience something like this at a much earlier age. Ike has to step over the corpse of the man he killed to keep fighting and rescue his sister, and the action of having to disregard a life like that hurts him. But he has to go on, and so he does. 

After Shinon swoops in to help, they rescue Mist and Rolf, who are thankfully safe and sound. Ike wipes the blood staining his hands on the inside of his cape before tightly holding onto his brave little sister, protectively clutching her hand in his and hoping that he could feel cleaner before touching her, that he never has to see Mist near a battlefield again. 

He doesn’t regret disobeying Titania’s orders in order to rush to help Mist and Rolf, but he still expects to be forbidden from any mercenary duties for a while. He is surprised when he isn’t, when Greil sends him on another job, but he happily obeys his orders this time and marches along with the other mercenaries. Their rocky personalities aside, having Gatrie and Shinon in the field with him is reassuring, and he manages to push back the emotional strain of driving his blade through enemy pirates well enough to complete the job, even managing to save a strange pegasus knight in the process. Ike kills the leader of the pirates, stabbing him through the heart. He doesn’t hesitate this time either, but his hands shake when he sheathes his sword, and he can tell Titania notices the awkward clanking of the iron against the scabbard.

Then the villagers they saved express their gratitude, and Ike’s hands stop shaking. The genuine relief in the villagers’ faces eases him, grounds his belief that what he’s doing is helping others, and that this is the right path to live. Gatrie and Shinon complain about the work they do as the Greil Mercenaries, and Ike feels Titania’s frustration as his own. 

“If you’re looking for pride... I have it,” he says, and means every word of it. 

He has only been on the job for three days and has had quite a few doubts and difficulties already, and he knows more will plague him in the future. And yet, the pride he feels is strong and undeniable. He’s proud of his father, he’s proud of Titania, of Soren and every other mercenary in the company and the work they all do. He’s proud of himself for becoming strong enough to be a part of that. No guilt for the lives he has taken will take that away from him, he is certain of that. Ike returns to the fort in high spirits. 

Things seem to be going well until the day Soren returns to the fort. He had been training in Melior, and he’s back early again—something that hasn’t happened since the first time he was away for his training. Ike gets the feeling that something must have gone wrong, but he pushes his worries aside in order to go look for his closest friend, whom he hasn't seen in many months.

“Hey! What's going on around here?” he asks as he bursts into the briefing room.

“Bad news,” a familiar voice replies. “Something big is happening, and we need to formulate a plan of action.”

Ike turns to see a Soren that looks a little frazzled, his hair askew and his countenance tired. He's frowning, but he immediately softens when their gazes meet, his tense posture relaxing. Ike finds himself relaxing as well. His friend looks exhausted, but fine otherwise.

“Soren!” 

“Hello, Ike.” Soren’s lips quirk into that small smile so few get to see. “Long time no see.”

“I’m happy to see you’re back,” Ike says with a smile of his own. He’s missed his best friend, as he always does when Soren is away. “But what happened? I thought you were going to be studying for a while longer.”

Soren’s expression falls, and he averts his eyes with a tired sigh that makes Ike’s gut clench in worry. 

“It’s a long story…” 

Ike opens his mouth to reply, but his father barges into the room, fixing them with a stern look. 

“What’s the holdup?” He asks. “Get over here, now!”

Ike tenses up, but Soren is already walking towards the door. He stops to look back at him and tilts his head, beckoning him to come closer. 

“Let’s go. I’ll fill you in later.”

Ike can only nod and follow, heading into his first serious strategy meeting with a lot of nerves and confusion. The mercenaries are standing around a worn-down table, and Soren has placed himself right next to Titania, leaving a spot open to his right. Ike takes it, and waits for someone to open their mouth and share whatever dire news Soren has brought. 

It is Greil that begins speaking, his arms crossed over his chest. “You probably remember that Soren’s been training with another mercenary group.” He nods at Soren, who nods back. “Well, he’s back now. And he has some unbelievable news.”

“What news is that?” Ike asks.

“It’s Crimea and Daein. They’ve gone to war.”

Silence falls over the room, and Ike turns to look down at Soren, who is already looking at him. Ike waits for him to deny his father’s claim, but his friend shakes his head slowly and Ike’s blood runs cold. He keeps watching the other boy as he leans over a map laid out on the table and starts explaining the specifics. His tone when he relays the horrors he saw is detached, as if he wasn’t really there, experiencing Melior’s downfall and having to hurry his way back to the fort by foot, never knowing if he would be entirely safe. 

Ike can't help but be baffled at the fact that someone as small and thin and Soren, who eats so little and doesn’t even try to exercise, managed to run from Melior to the fort in the midst of a Daein attack and end up only looking tired, not passing out or throwing up due to exhaustion. He knows the mage is sturdier than he looks, but he’s still a little amazed that Soren has the energy to relay the information in detail, and even start arguing with Titania in earnest—something he has been doing more and more as of late. 

The reality that a war is among them hasn’t truly settled in yet, so he darts his eyes around the room, trying to follow the discussion that is happening. Titania’s approach may be a bit too idealistic, but Ike likes it more than Soren’s colder one. He appreciate's Soren's insight, he truly does, especially when no one else in the Greil Mercenaries is as unafraid to say the truth as Soren is. Still, he doesn't like it. Abandoning Crimea to its fate just doesn't feel right, but he doesn't know how to articulate why that is, so he stays quiet.  

That is, until his father cuts the argument short, announces a scouting mission, and turns to look at Ike. 

“Ike, I want you in charge of this,” he says. “Assemble your men and get going.”

Ike’s jaw drops, wondering if he’s heard wrong. “What? Me?”

“Titania will accompany you as an advisor,” Greil adds, as if that will change the fact that Ike is an inexperienced mercenary that has only been on three jobs and has no leadership training whatsoever. 

“Commander, you must be joking! He’s just a boy, and he’s had barely more than a taste of battle,” Shinon complains and, for once, Ike is inclined to agree. “What do you expect a whelp like him to accomplish?”

“Ah, Shinon,” Greil replies. “Since you’re so concerned, you can go as well.”

“Wait, that’s not what I… Blast.”

“Who else… Gatrie, Rhys, and Soren. That should do.”

“Father, wait…” Ike intervenes, a little put off by the fact that his father is just pressing on, giving no reason as to why he's putting Ike in charge. “Why do you want me—”

“That was an order,” Greil cuts him off. “Get moving. There’s no time to waste.”

Ike bites his lip to avoid saying anything else, and he bows his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Titania, I’m going out for a bit. I want you to give Ike some direction.”

“Understood,” Titania says, and with that the mercenaries start leaving the room one by one, leaving Ike standing still, trying—and failing—to steel his nerves. 

He feels a tug at his sleeve and looks to the side to find Soren staring up at him with a genuine smile. 

“This isn’t your first job, is it?” Soren asks and, despite his worries, Ike’s lips quirk up as well. He shakes his head, and Soren’s eyes seem to shine with something akin to pride. “You finally made it.”

“I did,” Ike says, feeling warm inside all over again. “I’ve been dying to tell you about it.”

“And I am dying to hear all about it,” Soren says, stepping away from the table. “I will go and get ready to depart. Tell me when all of this is over?”

“Sure.” 

Ike watches his friend’s retreating figure until he's out of the room, and then takes a deep sigh. An impending war, suddenly being put on command… he isn’t sure he can handle any of that, but he sure as hell will try. 

After all, he’s not alone in any of this.

 

* * *

 

Soren’s eye scan the battlefield as the mercenaries get into formation. The space is a little too open for his liking, and he sideyes Rhys with a frown. He knows that Titania is very reliable and that the enemies are likely to target Shinon before they try targeting anyone else, but he should still be careful and try to keep Rhys out of harm. It’s been a while since he fought, having poured himself over his tactics training and abandoning his magic studies for a few months once again. A clear mistake, now that they’re going into war. He makes a mental note to try and balance out his studies more, and turns to Ike. 

Soren might be the official tactician of the Greil Mercenaries, but Ike is commanding them right now. Greil probably wants him to finally get some hands-on commander experience, so Soren is willing to take a step back before he gives any tactical advice. 

“Ike,” he calls softly, waiting for Ike to look at him before he continues speaking, “do you have any ideas on how you want to approach this fight?”

“Let’s see…” Ike hums, tapping his chin as he scans the battlefield as well. “We’re in the middle of the road, and there’s not much cover. You’re vulnerable, so I have to be sure you’re protected from enemy attacks, right?”

Soren’s hands clench around his tome at the word ‘vulnerable’, hating himself for being so weak that he has to be protected, but he doesn’t let himself sulk about it, smiling at Ike instead.

“That’s a sound strategy, Ike,” he praises, nodding approvingly. “I can attack from behind your defenses. Good thinking.”

_And I will not be vulnerable for much longer,_ he adds inwardly. _Just wait a little longer and I’ll be right with you in the frontlines._

“Really?” Ike asks, his tone bright. He’s clearly happy to be acknowledged like that, and that makes it all worth it for Soren. “All right, let’s do that then.”

Soren stays back, one step ahead of Rhys, and watches the battle begin. It’s the first time he sees Ike in action, but Ike handles himself exceedingly well. He’s fast, always faster than his enemies, and does not hesitate when cutting them down. Him and Gatrie form a steady wall in front of him as Titania and Shinon clear out many of the enemies, leaving only a few up to Ike himself. It’s safe, so Soren raises a hand to indicate Rhys to stay back, and he steps forward, stopping right behind Ike’s back. Ike slashes at an enemy soldier, and Soren readies a spell. 

“Crouch,” Soren warns as the enemy readies his spear for a counter attack. Ike proves to be responsive, crouching just in time for Soren’s conjured wind to slash at the enemy again, pushing him back and making him stagger. “Now!”

Ike steps forward, still in a low stance, and moves his sword diagonally upwards, finishing the enemy in one blow. He wasn’t always fully proficient at wielding his sword one-handed, but he seems to be now. Soren tells himself to praise him for that later. For now, he focuses on what’s ahead. 

“Two more incoming,” he says, and Ike nods, raising his sword again. 

“Gatrie! Intercept the one with the sword!”

“On it!” Gatrie replies, his voice accompanied by the clanking of his heavy armor. 

“Help us finish the ones that we can’t,” Ike tells Soren.

“I’ll be right behind you, Ike.”

Ike has his back to him, but Soren can still see the slight grin on his face. Soren allows himself a small smile of his own, a split second to revel in the fact that they do, in fact, make a solid team. Ike is as reliable as Soren always thought he would be, and he takes on the rest of the battle with confidence, pleasantly surprised at how well Ike manages his team. 

Soren kills the enemy commander himself, but Ike is nearby, helping him weaken the foe. The momentary satisfaction of a battle won with no casualties dissipates quickly as the situation of the war dawns on them all. Soren saw Melior fall with his own eyes so he is mostly unfazed, and Shinon is already trying to loot the Daein corpses because he’s a heathen, but the rest of the team seem crestfallen. Ike decides that they should go back to the fort to inform Greil and as they make their way back, Rhys spots someone that, in Soren’s humble opinion, makes everything fall apart. 

Soren feels bad about the whole thing as soon as his eyes set on the girl passed out in the thicket. Her dress is made of the fine type of fabric that people like the Greil Mercenaries cannot even afford to look at, detailed and accentuated by golden accessories that Soren can tell are authentic—he has developed an eye for these things with the amount of haggling that he does. She’s wearing a circlet too, an accessory you do not tend to see on anyone that isn’t of the highest standing, and Soren can only scowl at her as Titania hauls her up her ride—because of course they’re taking her along. The lady is probably disgustingly rich, maybe even a part of the Crimean nobility, and that means she is going to be big trouble, especially when they are in the midst of getting invaded by a war-mongering country and the deputy commander of his mercenary company is an idealistic fool that is going to try her damndest to make them all fight a losing war that Soren wants no part in.

Soren can already imagine this lady hiring them as escorts out of desperation to save her neck and getting them all killed because the people in charge of the Greil Mercenaries are too kind to say no. He darts his gaze between the woman and Ike, who is looking at her with worry in his eyes, and sighs quietly. Too kind for his own good, truly. If that same kindness wasn’t the very thing that saved Soren’s life and gave a meaning to it he would have gotten fed up with it a long time ago.  

Ike must have heard him sigh, because he averts his gaze from the woman to look at him instead and asks, “Is something wrong?”

Soren shakes his head. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“You always have a bad feeling about everything,” Titania cuts in, and Soren glares at her. 

“Someone in this company has to be cautious.”

“Being cautious is one thing, but you’re too skeptical.”

“I’d much rather be skeptical than so trustful it borders on being naive.”

“I’ll take being naive, if that’s what you call someone who believes in what is right.”

“What is right by whom, exactly? Let’s say this lady—” Soren cocks his head at the unconscious woman. “—is a Crimean noble that hires us to escort her out of the country. Let’s say we do ‘what is right’ and accept, and immediately get killed because there is no winning chance against Daein. Is that ‘right’? Losing our lives because of a job that could have never been accomplished, dragging even Mist and Rolf down with us?”

“Why are you already so convinced that we will die? Commander Greil is with us.”

“The commander is not a god. He is as human as the rest of us.”

“Guys, stop,” Ike intervenes. “We don’t even know who she is yet, let’s just… let’s just take her home.”

Soren wants to argue further, but he bites his lip and sends one last glare at Titania, who unabashedly glares back. Their relationship has become strained as of late, especially when Titania started noticing that Soren wasn’t growing out of his distrustful nature as he entered his teens. She disapproves of mostly everything he says nowadays, and he cannot seem to talk to her without ending up in an argument. He would not mind that much if it wasn’t for the fact that, even if Commander Greil tends to value Soren’s input, it is Titania’s foolish idealism that most of the mercenaries share, and that really affects the choices that are made. 

There is a knot in Soren’s throat, and he redirects his glare to the unconscious woman riding with Titania. _If your presence brings any harm to Ike, I will never forgive you_ , he thinks, clenching his jaw. 

If the Greil Mercenaries decide to protect the girl, Soren cannot be sure that he will be able to fully protect Ike, and he hates himself for that. But self-hatred can be inhabilitating and he can’t deal with that right now, so he does the next best thing: direct that hatred towards this nameless girl, and hope that she will die before she can bring any troubles with her. 

 

* * *

 

Princess Elincia seems like a genuinely good person, and that is enough for Ike to agree to help her get to Gallia. He always had the idea that nobles were just an arrogant bunch, but Elincia seems humble and kind and, more importantly, she seems hurt by the loss of her family and her country. He is proud to be a part of the Greil Mercenaries because they help people in need, and he cannot think of a person in any more need of aid than the princess. 

So Ike voices his agreement with Titania, and Greil makes the choice to accept Elincia’s request. Most of the mercenaries express their relief and approval of that decision, but Shinon clicks his tongue loudly, and when Ike turns to look at Soren he is surprised to see an extremely dark expression on his face. Ike expected a downturn of Soren’s lips, a deeper-than-usual frown, but not his visibly clenched jaw and the barely contained anger in his eyes. 

Ike has always admired Soren’s observation and decision-making skills. He doesn’t regret his decision to help Elincia, but if Soren is _this_ unhappy about it, then he might at least have a point. 

“....Are you sure that’s for the best, father?” he asks Greil. 

“Yes. Besides, I think the choice has been taken out of our hands.”

“What?”

“Open your ears and listen,” Greil says, holding up a hand and fixing a brief stare on every mercenary, one by one. “Listen! All of you.”

Ike’s eyes scan the mercenaries as he listens, and he can see the moment where Soren’s expression darkens even more, his eyes narrowing. He sees Titania and Oscar’s expressions changing too, and then he starts realizing just how quiet it is.

“Huh?…What is it?” Boyd whispers.

“Uh…I don’t hear a thing…” Gatrie adds. 

Shinon clicks his tongue. “Idiot! That’s the problem. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? Complete silence, in all four directions.”

“Oh, so that’s what you’re talking about!”

Oscar crosses his arms, frowning. “Not only are the animals quiet, but the bugs are silent, too. And that's unnatural beyond belief. Which means…”

“We’re surrounded,” Ike confirms. He sees Greil nodding gravely, and he clenches his fists. “The soldiers aren’t waiting for an answer. They already decided to attack.”

Titania sighs, already reaching for her axe. “It would appear they had no intention of keeping their side of the proposed bargain.”

“They were planning on lulling us into a false sense of security and destroying every one of us,” Soren says, almost spitting the words. 

“Probably so,” Greil replies. “But the deal is, we’re not so naive or inexperienced as to fall for their trap. Take your positions! We’re going to settle this right now!” He turns to Ike and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go and hold the rear entrance. Ike, you’re in command here. Don’t let the enemy take the front.”

Ike frowns, but he nods. Greil can handle himself, and Ike will have all the mercenaries backing him up. “Got it. Be careful, Commander!”

“Hah. I’ll give it a shot.”

Ike smiles at his father, whose confidence is reassuring, and hurries out of the fort. He finds everyone getting in position and readying their weapons, and turns to Soren. He still looks angry, but determined too, like a true professional. 

“Any suggestions?” he asks, and Soren nods. 

“We are vastly outnumbered, so we should block the entrances, stand our ground, and weed them out little by little.”

“Sounds good. Titania and Shinon should be on different entrances, right?”

“Yes, Ike, good thinking.” Soren smiles up at him, but it seems a little strained. “As our strongest fighters, they will hold up just fine separately.”

“I’m sorry,” Ike blurts out. “I know you didn’t approve of this, and—” 

“Now is not the time, Ike,” Soren interrupts. He’s right, so Ike purses his lips and keeps quiet. It just doesn’t sit well with him, Soren being so upset, how strongly he disapproves of this all. Soren must see that on his expression, because he softens a little. “It’s not like we have a choice either way. Daein soldiers are coming for our lives, so I will fight. That is all.”

“But you said something like this would happen, and I just—”

“Ike.” Soren smiles again, this time a little more genuine. “I want you to stay true to yourself, so don’t worry about how I feel about this whole thing. I will be right beside you. Now, focus.”

“I… okay,” Ike says. He still wants to argue because he _does_ worry about how Soren feels, but it really isn’t the time. “Thanks, Soren.”

Soren nods, and Shinon makes a retching sound from a few paces over. 

“You guys are unbearable,” he calls. 

“Whatever, Shinon,” Soren replies. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Right.” Ike takes a deep breath. “Shinon, Gatrie, Boyd, side entrance. Titania, Soren and I will take the front. Rhys, stay back and look out for injuries, and Oscar, provide support for whoever you think needs it most. Be careful, everyone.”

Words of agreement are spoken, and everyone positions themselves right where Ike wants them to. He stands next to Titania, blocking the front entrance, and pulls his sword out of its scabbard. Soren positions himself right behind Ike, and Ike feels at ease with the presence of his best friend and the deputy commander, two of the more reliable people he has ever known. 

“This isn’t the first time the fort is under attack,” he says, mostly to himself. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but these are professional soldiers,” Titania warns. “Stay sharp.”

Ike adjusts his grip on his sword. “I will.”

“They’re coming,” Soren whispers at the first sounds of footsteps approaching. 

No one else speaks, and when the first enemy charges himself at Ike, lance ready, he meets him halfway, swinging his sword upwards to deflect the attack. A flurry of wind blows past him, hitting the enemy dead on, and Ike takes the chance to finish him. He aims straight for the neck, knowing that this time his enemies cannot be left alive. He tries to spare a thought for the man he has just killed, but another one comes charging from the dark of night, and Ike is hyper-aware of the fact that they are coming for the lives of everyone that matters to him. He takes this other enemy down, and doesn’t try to extend his compassion to the corpse that falls at his feet when another soldier comes to stand before him. This one wounds him, nicks him in the shoulder, and he can hear Soren stepping behind Titania and calling for Rhys, who jogs forward and heals Ike’s wounds immediately. Titania, who has been steadily taking down foes, uses a hand axe to strike down an approaching archer, giving time for Rhys to retreat again. 

The battle continues in an almost repetitive fashion, Titania downing enemies single-handedly and Ike managing perfectly well with Soren’s support from the back. Oscar comes by to help with his javelin after a while, and Ike takes it as a sign that the battle is going well on the other side as well. The Daein soldiers may have outnumbered them, but the advantages of being the ones holding down the fort and having such capable fighters, small in numbers as they may be, are noticeable. Ike doesn’t know how much time it takes for them to thin out the enemy numbers, but the battle goes by in what feels like a flash. Eventually, the enemies stop coming for them, so Titania and Oscar are sent to hunt down the commander of the enemy force, and once he is defeated the remaining enemies retreat on their own. The mercenaries round the perimeter and clear it of any lingering soldiers, and with that, the battle is over.

The Greil Mercenaries have won with no casualties and no wounded. Considering how dire the situation was, Ike is deeply satisfied. 

Greil does announce that they have to abandon and burn down the fort that Ike has grown up in, but he feels a surprisingly small amount of sadness about it. As the mercenaries start preparing for departure with no hesitation and no objections to leave are brought up, Ike knows for certain that his home is where his family is, and the fort itself doesn’t matter that much. He directs Elincia to the mess hall, satisfied with how easily she complies in helping them pack up, and heads to the stables to ready her a horse. He readies the one where Mist and Rhys will ride too—since they only have two spare horses—and brings them both out, tying them to a tree right outside the fort and waiting there for the other mercenaries to start filtering out of the fort. 

“Any help needed?” he asks Greil when he sees him walking towards him with a barrel under his arm, Rhys and Soren trailing behind him. 

“It’s fine, pup,” Greil replies, adjusting the barrel under his grip. “The interior of the fort is already coated with oil, I’ll spread more around the sides and when everyone is out we’ll burn it down.” He turns to Soren, who is holding two books and a bag filled to the brim with documents, most of them sticking out of it. “Can you start the fire, Soren?”

“Yes, sir,” Soren says, turning slightly to the side so the cover of a fire tome is visible to Greil. “Just give me the signal when everyone is ready.”

“Will do, you three tell everyone to wait here.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Greil sets off, and Ike turns to Soren. 

“Is that heavy?” he asks, pointing to the bag. “It looks like it’s weighing you down.”

Soren frowns up at him, but he still leans forward, offering his shoulder for Ike to take it by its strap. Soren is no good when it comes to lifting weights, and even less with two thick tomes in hand, so Ike takes the bag from him and smiles when Soren lets out a sigh of relief. 

“I can take your other tome too, if you only want to hold the fire one,” he offers, and Soren huffs indignantly. 

“I’m not a child, Ike. But thank you.” He looks at the fort with a small frown. “Setting fire to the fort will be surprisingly easily anyway.”

“Home is where the Greil Mercenaries are,” Ike says with maybe too much conviction, because it makes Soren snort and Rhys chuckle. 

“He’s right, you know,” Rhys says, looking at Soren with mirth in his eyes. Rhys is holding a few books of his own, but he doesn’t seem weighted down by them. Maybe Soren should work on his strength a little more. 

“He’s cheesy, that’s what he is,” Soren replies, but his expression is brighter than before and Ike takes that as a win. 

They wait in silence, Ike absentmindedly patting one of the horses. Titania, Shinon and Gatrie return from securing a path, and only after a few minutes Greil, Princess Elincia, and the rest of the mercenaries come out of the fort. Soren silently steps forward, stopping before Greil, who pats him on the shoulder and walks up to the rest of the group. 

Everyone is silent, so when Soren starts his incantation in his smooth, quiet voice, it sounds almost deafening. A small fireball approaches the fort, and as soon as it makes contact with the oil coating it, flames erupt and the night lights up.

The Greil Mercenaries watch their home burning down for a brief moment, but when Greil turns around and starts walking away, the members of the company start following him one by one. Ike turns too, but sees the princess staring at the fort with her hands clasped over her chest, and he walks over to her. 

“Lord Ike… I am so sorry,” she says, looking up at him with teary eyes. 

Ike shrugs. “It’s fine. Home is where the Greil Mercenaries are.”

He hears a few stifled laughs at his comment, but that’s fine. His words make Elincia smile, nod, and turn with her head held high, and he means them anyway. 

Ike follows his family without turning back, no regrets in his mind, the pride he feels unshakeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't as ikesoren centric as the other ones, but I really have to get the plot of the game going if I want to get to the juicy stuff. I still enjoyed writing it, and i hope you enjoyed reading it, but I promise cooler stuff is coming... eventually, because fe3h comes out in a few days and that'll certainly be distracting. I'll still try not to slack /too/ much!!


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